THE  CHANGED  BRIDES. 


BY  ;  : 


MRS.  EMMA  D.  E.  K  SOUTHWORTH. 

AUTHOR     OF     "HOW      HE      WON       HER,"       "FAIR      PLAY,"        "THE       BRIDES'      FATE, 

"THE    DISCARDED   DAUGHTER,"     "HAUNTED    HOMESTEAD,"     "RETRIBUTION," 
"THE    LOST    HEIRESS,"    "THE    FORTUNE    SEEKER,"    "  ALLWORTH  ABBEY," 

"  THK   FATAL   MARRIAGE,"    "THE  MISSING  BKIDE,"     "THE  TWO  SISTERS," 
"THE    BRIDAL    EVK,"    "LADY   OF   THE   ISLE,"    "  GIPSY'S    PROPHECY," 

"VIVIA,"   "WIFE'S  VICTORY,"     "MOTHER-IN-LAW,"   "INDIA," 

"THE    THRHE     BEAUTIES,"    "THE    CURSE    OF   CLIFTON," 

"THE    DESERTED    WIFE,"      "LOVE'S    LABOR    WON," 

"FALLEN*  PRIDP;,"  "THE  BRIDE  OF  LLKWELLYN," 

"THE  WIDOW'S  SON,"  "PRINCE  OF  DARKNESS." 


"TlS   AN   OLD   TALE,   AND   OFTEN  TOLD — 

A   MAIDEN   TRUE,    BETRAYED   FOR   GOLD.— SCOTT. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

T.   B.   PETERSOX   &  BROTHERS; 
306     CHESTNUT     STREET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 
T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

In  the  Clerk's   Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for  the 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


MRS..EMMA  D,  E,  .N,  SOUTHWORTH'S  WORKS. 

:  Sach  Wor'k  is*  coirjpleto  in  one  large  duodecimo  volume. 

FAIR  *PL*A>Yi  QR,   TH'P  'TEST  OF  THE  LONE  ISLE. 

HOW  'HE  W'ON-H~&R*>  A  SEQUEL  TO  FAIR  PLAY. 
THE  PRINCE  OF  DARKNESS. 
THE  MOTHER  IN-L  AW. 

THE   THREE  BEAUTIES. 
THE  WIFE'S  VICTORY. 

THE  CHANGED  BRIDES. 

THE  BRIDES'  FATE.  SEQUEL  TO  CHANGED  BRIDES. 
THE  BRIDE  OF  LLEWELLYN. 
THE  GIPSY'S  PROPHECY. 
THE  FORTUNE  SEEKER. 

THE  DESERTED  WIFE. 
THE  LOST  HEIRESS. 

RETRIBUTION. 

FALLEN  PRIDE;  OR,   THE  MOUNTAIN  GIRL'S  LOVE. 
THE  FATAL  MARRIAGE. 

THE  HAUNTED  HOMESTEAD. 
LOVE'S  LABOR    WON. 

THE  MISSING  BRIDE. 
LADY  OF  THE  ISLE. 

THE  TWO  SISTERS. 

INDIA;  OR,   THE  PEARL   OF  PEARL  RIVER. 
VIVIA;  OR,    THE  SECRET  OF  POWER. 
THE  CURSE  OF  CLIFTON. 

THE  DISCARDED  DAUGHTER. 
THE  WIDOW'S  SON. 

ALL  WORTH  ABBEY. 

THE  BRIDAL  EVE. 
Price  of  each,  $1.75  in  Cloth;  or  $1.50  in  Paper  Cover. 


Above  books  are  for  sale  by  all  Booksellers.  Copies  of  any  or 
all  of  the  above  books  will  be  sent  to  any  one,  to  any  place,  post 
age  pre-paid,  on  receipt  of  their  price  by  the  Publishers, 

T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BEOTHERS, 

306  CHESTNUT  STREET,  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


Cfs 

)%(,< 


TO 


MISS    EDITH    HENSHAW, 

OF   WASHINGTON    CITY; 


THIS 


WOEK     IS    INSCRIBED, 


WITH 


THE     LOVE     OF     HER    SISTER. 


PROSPECT  COTTAGE, 

GEORGETOWN,  D.  C. 

MAY,  1869. 


f^f**  -fl  J^O  r~ 

136:1  vv>5 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Pag#> 

I.— ON  THE  EVE  OF  A  GRAND  WEDDING 23 

II. — AT   THE  OLD   HALL 41 

III. — THE   HOUSELESS  WANDERER  AND  THE  BIJDE 

ELECT 53 

IV. — A  CHILD'S  LOVE 57 

V. — THE   CHILD   MEETS   HER   FATE 71 

VI. — THE  NEXT  FEW  YEARS 83 

VII. — THE  GIRL'S  FIRST   GRIEF 94 

VIII.— FATAL   LOVE 104 

IX.— BRIDAL  FAVORS 113 

X.— WHAT  WAS  DONE  WITH  DRUSILLA 128 

XI. — JOY  FOR  DRUSILLA 142 

XIL — A  REALLY  HAPPY  BRIDE 153 

XIII.— THE   CHILD  BRIDE  AT  HOME 162 

XIV, — THE   WILD  WOOD  HOME  BY  DAY 167 

XV.— CLOUDLESS   JOYS 176 

XVI.— A  QUEEN  OF  FASHION 190 

XVII. — MORAL  MADNESS 197 

XVIIL— A  DARK  RIDE 202 

XIX. — A  NEGLECTED  WIFE 211 

XX.— RIVALRY. 217 

XXI. — THE   SORROWS   OF  THE  YOUNG  WIFE 222 

(21) 


22  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Page 

XXII.— DIFFICULTIES  OF  DECEPTION 232 

XXIII.— SILENT  SORROW 241 

XXIV. —  THE  SPECTRAL  FACE 248 

XXV. — CAUGHT 255 

XXVI. — A  MEMORABLE  NIGHT 262 

XXVII. — A  GREAT  DISCOVERY 270 

XXVIII.— HIS  LOVE 278 

XXIX. — HER  LOVE 284 

XXX.— BREAKING 293 

XXXI. — FIRST  ABSENCE 303 

XXXII. — BRIGHT  HOPES 307 

XXXIII.— A  SURPRISE 316 

XXXIV. — GONE  FOIi  GOOD 326 

XXXV.— CRUEL  TREACHERY 334 

XXXVI. — AGONY 346 

XXXVII. — SUSPENSE 355 

XXXVIII. — HOPING  AGAINST  HOPE 365 

XXXIX.— DICK  HAMMOND  IS  ASTONISHED 372 

XL.— DICK'S  NEWS 387 

XLI.— PROOFS 403 

XLII. — DRUSILLA'S  DESTINATION 410 

XLIII. — THE  DREARY  NIGHT  RIDE 419 

XLIV.— HOW  SHE  SPED 437 

XLV. — DRUSILLA'S  ARRIVAL 445 

XLVI. — THE   DESPERATE   REMEDY 459 

XLVII. — EXPOSURE 478 

3LL VIII. — BALM  FOR  THE  BRUISED  HEART 492 


THE   CHANGED  BRIDES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON   THE    EVE    OF    A    GRAND    WEDDING. 

Blow,  blow,  thou  wintry  wind  I 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 

As  man's  ingratitude; 
Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen, 
Because  thou  art  not  seen, 

Aitho'  thy  breath  be  rude. 
Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky  I 
Thou  dost  not  bite  so  nigh 

As  benefits  forgot; 
Tho'  thou  the  waf,ers  warp, 
Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp 

As  friend  remembered  not. — SHAKSPEARE. 

A  WILD  and  wintry  night,  in  a  wild  and  wintry  scene! 
The  old  turnpike  road  running  through  the  mountain  pass, 
lonely  at  the  best  times,  seemed  quite  deserted  now. 

The  old  Scotch  toll-gate  keeper  sat  shivering  over  his 
blazing  hickory  wood  fire,  and  listening  to  the  dashing  rain 
and  beating  wind  that  seemed  to  threaten  the  destruction 
of  his  rude  dwelling. 

His  old  wife  sat  near  him,  spinning  yarn  from  a  small 
wheel  that  she  turned  with  the  united  action  of  hand  and 
foot. 

"Ugh!"  shuddered  the  old  man,  as  a  blast  fiercer  than 
ever  shook  the  house,  "  it  'ill  ding  down  the  old  dwelling 
next,  and  no  harm  done  !  An  it  were  once  blown  away, 
the  company  would  behoove  to  build  us  anither  strong 
enough  to  stand  the  storms  o'  these  parts.  Hech  !  but  it's 
awfu'  cold."  ^ 

"  Pit  anither  log  on  the  fire,  gudernan.  Wood's  plenty 

(23) 


•24  -    THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 


,  that's  a  4b.lessnig,"  said  the  old  woman,  without 
ceasing  to  turn  her  wheel. 

"  Wha's  the  use,  Jenny  ?  Ye'll  no  warm  sic  an  old 
place  as  this.  Eli,  woman,  but  whiles  my  knees  are  roast 
ing,  my  back  is  freezing." 

"  Aweel,  then  gae  away  to  bed  wid  ye,  Andy,  and  I'll 
tuck  ye  up  warm,  and  bring  ye  your  hot  toddy." 

"  Nay,  Jenny,  worse  luck,  I  maun  sit  up  to  let  the  bride 
groom  through  the  gate." 

"  The  bridegroom  ?  Hoot,  man  !  He'll  no  pass  the 
road  on  sic  a  wild  night  as  this." 

"  Will  he  no,  and  his  bonny  bride  waiting  ?  Jenny, 
woman,  what  like  o'  wind  or  weather  would  ha'  stopt  me 
the  day  we  were  gaun  to  be  married  ?  So  ye  maun  gie  me 
my  pipe,  gudewife,  for  I  bide  here  to  open  the  gate  for  the 
blithe  bridegroom  to  pass  through." 

"  But  he  maun  see  that  no  tender  lassie  can  take  the  road 
in  sic  a  storm  as  this,  and  they  were  to  be  married  by 
special  license  at  nine,  and  gae  away  in  a  grand  travelling 
carriage  at  ten,  to  meet  the  steamboat  at  eleven.  But  that 
can  no  be  now,  for  the  rain  is  comin  down  like  Noah's 
flood,  and  the  wind  blowing  a  hurricane,  to  say  naething  o' 
the  roads  all  being  turned  into  rinning  rivers,"  argued 
Jenny. 

"  It  will  be  for  her  to  decide  whether  it  can  or  canna  be. 
It  will  be  for  him  to  take  the  road  in  the  worst  weather 
that  ever  fell  from  heaven,  if  it  be  to  keep  his  tryst  with 
his  troth-plighted  bride.  So  gie  me  my  pipe,  Jenny,  for 
I'se  stop  up  to  let  the  bridegroom  gae  by." 

"  He  willna  come  now,  and  so  ye'll  see,  gudeman,"  said 
the  wife,  as  she  filled  his  pipe,  and  pressed  the  tobacco  well 
dow'n  into  the  bowl  with  her  big  fore  finger. 

"An  he  does  na  come  through  wind  or  rain  or  snow,  or 
ony  ither  like  o'  weather  the  Lord  please  to  send  this 
night,  and  I  were  Miss  Anna  Lyon,  I'd  cast  him  off  in  the 


THE     EVE     OF     A     GRAND     WEDDING.         25 

morn  like  old  shoes,"  nodded  Andy,  as  he  took  the  pipe  from 
his  wife  and  put  it  into  his  mouth. 

"  But  don't  ye  see,  gudeman,  that  it  '11  be  nae  use.  She 
canna  travel  on  sic  a  night  as  this." 

"  I'm  no  that  sure  she  will  he  called  upon  to  travel  the 
night.  I  heard  a  rumor  they  had  changed  all  that.  And 
there  was  to  be  a  grand  wedding  at  the  old  Hall,  and  a 
ball  and  a  supper,  and  that  the  bonny  bride  and  bridegroom 
wouldna  gae  away  till  the  morn.  And  I'se  believe  it," 
said  Andy,  taking  the  big  tongs,  picking  up  a  live  coal,  and 
beginning  to  light  his  pipe. 

"Hoot,  man,  that  will  be  no  decent.  She'll  behoove  to 
marry  and  gae  away  like  ither  brides,  but  she'll  no  be  mar 
ried  and  gae  away  the  night.  The  wedding  maun  be  pit 
off,"  said  Jenny,  resuming  her  place  at  the  wheel. 

"Pit  off!  It  hae  been  pit  off  twice  a'ready,  once  when 
the  old  Judge  Lyon  died,  then  when  the  old  lady  died.  An 
it  be  pit  oft'  a  third  time,  it  'ill  never  take  place.  But  it 
will  no  be  put  off.  He'll  keep  his  tryst,  and  she'll  keep  her 
word.  Worse  luck  that  I  hae  to  bide  up  to  let  him 
through." 

"  An  he  maun  come,  pity  he  could  na  ha'  come  sooner." 

"  Hoot,  gudewife,  how  could  he  ?  The  steamer  does  na 
stop  at  the  Stormy  Petrel  Landing  until  nigh  noon,  and  it 
will  be  a  good  fifty  miles  from  here.  And  he  travelling  in 
his  ain  carriage  without  a  change  of  horses  all  the  way  over 
sic  roads,  and  in  sic  weather  as  this  ?  Plow  will  he  come 
sooner  ?  " 

"  Eh  !  but  I  wish  he  were  here  !  "  cried  the  old  woman. 

"There  he'll  be  now  !"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  rising  and 
listening,  as  in  a  temporary  lull  of  the  tempest  the  sound 
of  carriage  wheels  was  heard  dashing,  rumbling  and  tum 
bling  along  the  road. 

"Take  your  big  shawl  about  you,"  said  Jenny,  rising 
and  reaching  down  a  heavy  gray  "  inaud "  from  its  peg, 


26  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

and  throwing  it  over  Andy's  shoulders,  as,  with  a  lighted 
candle  in  his  hand,  he  went  to  open  the  door. 

"  Hech,  sirs  !  what  a  night  to  take  the  road  in  !  Nae- 
thing  but  a  waiting  bride  should  fetch  a  man  forth  in  sic 
weather ! "  exclaimed  the  old  toll-taker,  as  a  blast  of  wind 
and  rain  blew  out  his  candle,  and  whirled  his  shawl  up  over 
his  head. 

"  Shut  the  door,  gudeman,  or  we'll  both  be  drowned  in 
our  ain  house,  and  bide  a  we  till  I  bring  ye  the  lantern. 
Ye'll  no  be  able  to  take  a  lighted  candle  out  there,"  said 
Jenny,  as  she  ran  to  a  corner  cupboard  and  brought  forth 
an  old  horn  machine  big  enough  for  a  lighthouse  or  a  watch 
tower.  She  lit  the  candle  end  that  was  in  it,  and  handed 
it  to  Andy. 

He  having  meanwhile,  fastened  his  great  shawl  with  sev 
eral  strong  pins  and  skewers,  once  more  opened  the  door, 
and  went  forth  into  the  pitch  dark  night  and  raging  storm. 

A  spacious  travelling  carriage  stood  at  the  toll-gate,  with 
two  crimson  lamps  glowing  luridly  through  the  dark,  driv 
ing  tempest. 

Holding  down  his  hat  with  one  hand  and  carrying  the 
lantern  with  the  other,  old  Andy  pushed  on  towards  the 
carriage,  and  saw  that  its  door  stood  open,  and  a  young 
man  in  a  heavy  travelling  cloak  was  leaning  out. 

"  Be  gude  to  us,  sir !  is  it  yoursel',  sure  enough  ?  Troth, 
I  said  ye  would  come,"  said  Andy,  with  a  welcoming  smile. 

"Come  !  why,  to  be  sure  I  would  come.  Did  you  think 
that  any  sort  of  weather  would  have  stopped  me  on  such  an 
occasion  as  this  ?  Why,  Birney,  I  would  have  come  if  it 
had  rained  pitchforks,  points  downward,  or  wild  cats  and 
mad  dogs,"  laughed  the  }roung  man. 

"  Sae  I  said,  sir ;  sae  I  said  !  " 

"  But,  Birney,  my  friend,  I  must  get  out  and  stretch  my 
limbs  a  little.  I  want  to  be  able  to  stand  when  I  get  to  the 
Hall  j  but  really,  I  have  been  cramped  up  in  this  close  car- 


THE  EVE  OF  A  GRAND  WEDDING.     27 

riage  so  many  hours,  riding  over  tins  beast  of  a  country  so 
many  miles,  without  seeing  a  single  place  where  I  could 
stop  for  refreshment,  that — that — in  short,  Birney,  you 
must  let  me  out  and  let  me  in,"  said  the  traveller. 

"  Surely,  Mr.  Alexander  !  surely,  sir  !  and  much  honor  to 
my  humble  home,"  said  the  old  toll-taker,  smiling,  and 
bowing  respectfully. 

The  young  man,  notwithstanding  his  "  cramped  "  condi 
tion,  leaped  lightly  from  his  carriage,  drew  his  travelling  cloak 
closely  around  him,  hoisted  a  large  umbrella,  and  uncere 
moniously  preceded  his  host  to  the  house,  where  he  burst 
suddenly  in  upon  Jenny,  who  was  in  the  act  of  taking  a 
kettle  of  boiling  wrater  from  the  fire. 

"  Gude  save  us  !  Mr.  Alick,  is  it  yoursel'  ?  I  could  hard 
ly  believe  ony  gentleman  in  his  sober  sinses  would  take  the 
road  on  sic  a  night !  9} 

"  It  is  myself,  Mistress  Birney — that  T  know ;  but  as  to 
being  in  my  sober  senses,  I  am  not  quite  so  sure.  I  see 
you've  got  some  hot  water  there.  I  hope  you  have  also  got 
a  sample  of  that  fine  old  Scotch  whiskey  your  husband 
used  to  drink  in  remembrance  of  your  old  country.  If  so, 
Mistress  Birney,  I'll  thank  you  to  make  me  a  tumbler  of 
hot  toddy.  It  would  be  very  acceptable  in  such  weather  as 
this,"  said  "  Mr.  Alick,"  as  he  threw  off  his  cloak  and  his 
cap,  and  dropped  himself  down  into  old  Andy's  own  arm 
chair,  in  the  warm  chimney  corner. 

"  Surely,  sir  !  surely,  Mr.  Alick  !  I'se  make  it  directly. 
I'se  e'en  now  just  gaun  to  mix  the  gude  man's  night  drink 
for  hiinsel'/'  smiled  Jenny,  hospitably. 

"  All  right !  mix  mine  at  the  same  time,"  said  the  young 
man,  stretching  out  his  feet  to  the  fire,  and  indulging  in  a 
great  yawn. 

"  And  mix  it  in  the  big  stone  pitcher  with  the  zinc  cover, 
so  it  will  keep  hot  while  we  sit  and  drink  the  bonny  bride, 
Miss  Anna  Lyon's  health,"  said  old  Andy  as  he  came  in 
and  c'osed  the  door  to  keep  out  the  driving  rain. 


28  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Oil,  look  here  !  You  know  I've  no  time  for  health- 
clrinking ;  I'm  due  at  the  Hall  these  three  hours ;  only  this 
horrid  weather,  and  these  beastly  roads  have  delayed  me," 
exclaimed  Mr.  Alick,  rising  impatiently  and  standing  before 
the  blazing  fire. 

He  was  a  very  good-looking  young  fellow,  as  he  stood 
there.  He  had  a  tall,  well-proportioned  form,  fine  regular 
features,  a  fair,  roseate  complexion,  light  yellow  hair,  and 
bright  blue  eyes — smiling  eyes  that  seemed  to  love  all  they 
looked  upon. 

Quickly  and  skilfully  Jenny  Birney  made  the  toddy  and 
poured  it  into  large  tumblers  that  she  bad  previously  heated 
by  scalding  them  out  with  boiling  water. 

Once  more  Mr.  Alick  dropped  himself  into  old  Andy's 
chair,  while  he  received  one  of  the  glasses  from  his  host. 

"Eh,  there  sir;  it's  as  hot  as  love  !  "  said  the  old  man, 
as  he  passed  the  pitcher  that  his  guest  might  replenish  his 
glass  at  his  pleasure. 

"  It  is  very  good,"  admitted  the  young  man  when  he  had 
finished  his  second  tumbler.  "  Many  thanks  to  you, 
Mistress  Birney  for  the  aid  and  comfort  y'ou  have  given  me. 
I  feel  as  if  you  had  saved  my  life.  I  can  now  do  the  dis 
tance  between  this  and  the  Hall  without  breaking  down. 
And  now  I  must  be  off.  Good  evening  to  you,  Mistress 
Birney." 

And  the  traveller  put  on  his  cloak  and  cap,  took  up  his 
umbrella,  and  escorted  by  Andy,  left  the  cottage. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  Birney,  you  may  bring  out  some  of 
that  hot  stuff  to  my  coachman.  Poor  devil !  it  will  do  him 
no  harm  after  he  has  been  perched  up  there  so  long  in  the 
rain.  But  hark  ye,  Birney!  don't  let  it  be  too  stiff;  I 
don't  want  the  fellow  to  see  more  mists  before  his  eyes  than 
the  night  and  the  storm  make,"  said  Mr.  Alick  as  he  got 
into  the  carriage. 

Old  Andy  toddled  back  to  his  house,  and   after   a   few 


THE  EVE  OF  A  GRAND  WEDDING.    29 

minutes  reappeared  at  the  carriage  with  a  mug  of  the 
same  restorative  for  the  man  as  he  had  lately  administered 
to  the  master. 

The  chilled  and  wearied  coachman  turned  it  down  his 
throat  almost  at  a  gulp,  returned  the  mug,  and  thanked  the 
donor. 

Then  he  gathered  up  his  reins,  cracked  his  whip,  and 
started  his  horses  at  as  brisk  a  trot  as  might  be  deemed 
safe  on  that  dark  night  over  that  rough  road. 

The  old  turnpike-keeper  hurried  out  of  the  storm  into 
the  shelter  of  his  own  cottage. 

"  Ilech  !  it's  an  awfu'  night !  I'm  glad  he's  come  and 
gone.  We  may  pit  up  the  shutters  now,  gudewife ;  we'll 
no  be  troubled  wi'  ony  more  travellers  the  night,"  said  old 
Andy,  as  he  shook  his  shawl  free  from  the  clinging  rain 
drops,  and  hung  it  up  in  its  place. 

"  Now  sit  ye  down  in  your  own  comfortable  chair,  gude- 
man,  and  I'll  brew  ye  a  bowl  o'  hot  punch.  Eh,  hinney, 
ye'll  be  needing  it  after  sic'  an  exposure  to  the  elements," 
said  Jenny,  as  she  replaced  the  kettle  over  the  blaze,  and 
drew  Andy's  old  arm-chair  before  the  fire. 

With  a  sigh  of  infinite  relief,  he  let  himself  sink  into  the 
inviting  seat,  kicked  off  his  heavy  shoes,  and  stretched  his 
stockened  feet  to  the  genial  warmth  of  the  hearth.  Andy 
did  not  rejoice  in  the  luxury  of  a  pair  of  slippers. 

"  Eh,  Jenny,  woman,  it's  good  to  feel  oneself  at  ease  at 
one's  own  fireside  at  last,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  took  from 
the  hand  of  his  wife  a  smoking  tumbler  of  punch. 

"  '  It's  hot  as  love,'  as  you  say,"  she  nodded, 

"Eh,  so  it  is  j  what's  the  hour,  gudewife  ?  " 

"It's  gone  weel  on  to  ten,"  she  answered,  glancing  at 
the  tall  old  clock  that  stood  in  the  corner,  and  reached  from 
floor  to  ceiling. 

"  And  I'se  gaun  to  bed  immediately,  no  to  be  bothered 
wi'  any  more  travellers  the  night,"  said  Andy,  blowing  and 
sipping  his  punch. 


30  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

But  Andy  reckoned  without  his  host,  as  many  of  his 
betters  do. 

Just  at  that  moment  there  came  a  rap  at  the  door,  so  low, 
however,  that  it  could  scarcely  be  heard  amid  the  roaring  of 
the  storm. 

Yet  both  husband  and  wife  turned  and  listened. 

It  was  repeated. 

"What's  that $"  asked  Andy. 

"  There's  some  one  outside,"  said  Jenny. 

The  rafj«pas  reiterated. 

"Who  the  de'il  can  it  be,  at  this  unlawful  hour  o'  the 
night  ?  Gae  see,  Jenny,  woman.  And  if  it's  ony  vagrants 
bang  the  door  in  their  faces.  I'se  no  be  troubled  wi'  ony 
more  callers  the  night !  "  cried  the  old  man,  impatiently. 

Before  he  had  well  done  grumbling,  the  old  woman  had 
gone  to  the  door  and  opened  it,  letting  in  a  furious  blast  of 
wind  and  rain. 

"  Gude  guide  us  ! "  she  exclaimed,  starting  back,  aghast, 
at  what  she  saw  without. 

"What  the  de'il  is  it  then,  gude  wife?"  nervously 
demanded  Andy,  starting  up  and  seizing  his  old  musket 
from  its  hooks  above  the  chimney-piece.  Andy  was  think 
ing  only  of  thieves,  as  is  usual  with  many  who  have  little 
to  lose. 

"  Pit  up  your  gun,  gude  man,  it's  no  what  ye  think," 
said  Jenny,  once  more  approaching  the  door  to  peep  out  at 
the  wretch  that  stood  dripping  and  shivering  outside. 

"  For  the  love  of  Heaven,  let  me  in  a  little  while.  I  will 
not  stay  many  minutes,"  pleaded  a  plaintive  voice  from  the 
darkness. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Andy,  coming  cautiously  forward 
in  his  stocking  feet. 

"  It's  some  poor  lassie,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out.  Come 
in  wi'  ye  then,"  said  Jenny,  stretching  the  door  wide  open, 
though  the  wind  and  the  rain  rushed  in,  flooding  the  floor 
where  they  stood. 


THE     EVE     OF     A     GRAND     WEDDING.         31 

"  Ay,  come  in,  and  ye  maun,  and  dinna  stand  there  like 
a  lunatic  keeping  the  door  open  and  letting  in  the  weather," 
growled  Andy,  as  he  toddled  back  to  his  comfortable  chair 
and  dropped  into  it. 

Before  he  had  half  uttered  his  churlish  invitation,  the 
stranger  had  entered,  and  now  stood  in  the  room,  with  the 
rain  running  from  her  dark  raiment,  while  Jenny  shut  and 
bolted  the  door. 

"  Now  then,  who  are  ye  ?  and  what  brings  ye  tramping 
on  sic  a  night  as  this  ?  "  sternly  demanded  Andy,  as  he 
turned  and  stared  at  the  stranger. 

She  wore  a  long  dark  gray  cloak  with  a  hood  ;  the  cloak 
completely  concealed  her  form  and  its  hood  overshadowed 
her  face.  That  was  all  that  Andy  could  make  of  her  appear 
ance  then. 

"  Who  are  ye,  I  ask,  and  where  are  ye  gaun  the  night," 
he  angrily  repeated. 

The  stranger  did  not  answer  except  by  dropping  her  face 
upon  her  open  hands. 

"  Andy,  dinna  ye  see  she  canna  speak  ?  For  the  sake  of 
our  own  poor  lost  Katie,  we  maun  have  pity.  Come  away 
to  the  fire,  my  poor  lass,  and  dry  your  clothes,  whiles  I  get 
ye  something  warm  to  take  the  chill  out  o'  your  poor  shiv 
ering  body,"  said  Jenny,  kindly  placing  her  hand  upon  the 
girl's  shoulder  and  gently  urging  her  towards  the  fire-place. 

"  I'm  of  opinion  that  }re'd  better  find  out  who  she  is,  and 
where  she  came  from,  and  where  she's  gaun,  before  ye  press 
upon  her  the  hospitalities  of  an  honest  house,"  grumbled 
Mr.  Birney. 

"  Whist,  gude  man  !  I  might  speer  a  dizzen  questions, 
but  dinna  ye  see  for  yoursel'  that  she's  in  iia  condition  to 
answer  ane  ?  "  said  Jenny,  in  a  low  voice. 

Andy  growled  something  in  which  the  words  "  tramping 
hizzy  "  were  the  only  ones  audible. 

"  Come,  let  me  hae  your  cloak,  hinny,  to  hang  it  up  to 


32  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

dry.  See,  it's  wringing  wet.  Nay,  nay,  dinna  resist  gude 
offices,"  said  Mrs.  Birney,  with  kind  persistence,  as  she 
saw  that  the  girl  made  some  little,  mute,  pathetic  resistance 
to  the  removal  of  her  outer  garment. 

Jenny  gently  took  it  off  her  and  hung  it  on  the  back  of 
a  chair  to  dry  by  the  fire. 

And  the  young  stranger  stood  revealed  in  all  her  loveli 
ness  and  sorrow. 

She  was  a  young,  slight,  graceful  creature,  with  a  thin, 
pale  face,  dark  hair  and  dark  eyebrows,  long,  black  eye 
lashes,  and  large,  soft,  gray  eyes,  so  full  of  pleading  sadness 
that  their  glances  went  straight  to  the  heart  of  Jenny 
Birnev.  It  was  a  child's  face  ;  but  ah,  woe  !  it  was  a 
matron's  form  revealed  there. 

"  Wae-sooks  !  "  exclaimed  the  good  wife  in  consternation, 
as  she  gazed  upon  the  young  thing,  and  saw  that,  child-like 

as  she  looked,  she  had  been  married,  or ought  to  have 

been. 

Again  the  little,  pale  hands  went  up  and  covered  the 
little,  woe-forn  face. 

"  Sit  ye  down,  "  said  Mrs.  Birney,  kindly.  "  Ye  are  no 
able  to  stand." 

And  she  drew  her  own  low,  cushioned  chair  to  the 
chimney-corner,  and  with  gentle  force  pushed  the  poor 
child  into  it.  And  then  she  took  down  her  little  black  tea 
pot  from  the  corner  cupboard  and  began  to  make  tea. 

Mr.  Birney  watched  the  process  in  strong  disapprobation. 

His  wife  raised  a  deprecating  glance  to  his  face,  murmur 
ing,  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  We  maun  be  pitiful,  Andy  !  for  our  poor  lost  Katy's 
sake,  we  maun  be  pitiful." 

He  answered  that  appeal  by  growling  forth  the  words  : 

"  Aweel,  aweel,  Jenny  woman,  hae  your  ain  way  !  hae 
your  ain  way  !  Eh  !  but  ye've  had  it  these  forty  years  and 
mair !  And  it's  no  likely  that  ye'll  gie  it  up  now  !  " 


THE  EVE  OF  A  GRAND  WEDDING.     33 

And  so  saying,  the  old  man  put  his  pipe  in  his  mouth 
and  resigned  himself  to  circumstances. 

Mrs.  Birney  made  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  round  of  toast,  and 
set  them  on  a  little  stand  beside  her  guest. 

"Now  eat  and  drink  and  ye'll  be  better.  Nay,  nay, 
dinna  shake  your  poor  little  head  !  do  as  I  hid  ye.  I  had  a 
child  o'  my  ain  once.  She  has  been  in  heaven,  I  hope, 
these  twenty  years.  Sae  ye  see  I  hae  a  soft  place  in  my 
heart  for  children,  especially  for  lassies ;  sae  eat  and  drink, 
and  be  comforted  and  strengthened,  and  then  maybe  ye'll 
tell  me  how  ye  came  to  be  out  in  the  weather,  and  what  I 
can  do  for  ye  besides  giving  you  a  bit  and  sup  and  a  bed  to 
lie  on,"  coaxed  the  good  woman. 

"  Thanks,  thanks,"  murmured  the  girl,  as  she  raised  the 
cup,  and  with  a  feverish  thirst  eagerly  drank  the  tea. 

"  Try  some  of  the  toast.  It  is  done  with  milk ;  it  will 
nourish  ye,"  hospitably  urged  Jenny. 

"  Please — I  cannot  eat  a  morsel,  and — I  must  go  now/7 
answered  the  young  stranger,  rising. 

"  Go  now  !  Are  ye  daft  ?  "  '  exclaimed  Mrs.  Birney,  in 
dismay ;  while  Mr.  Birney  took  the  pipe  from  his  mouth 
and  stared. 

"  No,  I  am  not  '  daft,'  though  I  know  how  mad  my  pur 
pose  must  seem,"  calmly  answered  the  girl,  taking  her 
cloak  from  the  chair  upon  which  it  was  drying  by  the  fire. 

"But — I  thought  ye  came  here  for  a  night's  lodging, 
and " 

"Oh,  no;  I  had  no  such  design,"  sighed  the  girl. 

"  But — an  ye  didna  come  for  a  night's  lodging,  what  did 
ye  come  for  ?  " 

"  I  was  nearly  spent  with  struggling  on  in  the  face  of  the 

tempest.     I  was  so  beaten  by  the  wind  and  the  rain  that  I 

thought  I  should  have  dropped  and  died ;  I  almost  wish  I 

had.     But  I  saw  the  light  in  your  window  and  I  tried  to 

2 


34  THE      CHAJSGED      BRIDES. 

reach  it,  and  I  did.  I  came  in  only  to  rest  and  breathe  a 
little  while,  and  get  strength  to  go  on  again." 

"  But  where  did  ye  come  from,  my  poor  child  ?  "  inquired 
the  pitying  woman. 

"  I  came  from  Washington  by  the  stage-coach.  It  put 
me  down  at  the  Cross  Roads,  ten  miles  from  this  place." 

"  G-ude  save  us  !  and  ye  walked  all  that  way  through  the 
storm  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  was  nearly  exhausted  ;  but  now,  thanks  to 
your  charity,  I  feel  refreshed,  and  able  to  pursue  n:y 
journey,"  said  the  young  girl,  as  she  tied  her  cloak,  and 
drew  its  hood  over  her  head. 

"  Indeed,  then,  and  ye'll  no  do  onything  o'  the  sort.  Eh, 
sirs,  are  we  heathen  to  let  a  wee  bit  lassie  gae  forth  alane 
on  sic  a  stormy  winter  night  as  this,  when  we  wouldna  turn 
an  enemy's  dog  from  the  door  ?  Sit  ye  down,  my  lass,  and 
dinna  ye  mind  the  gudeman's  growling.  His  bark  is  aye 
worse  than  his  bite,"  said  Mrs.  Birney. 

And  here  Mr.  Birney  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and 
spoke  these  gracious  words : 

"  Bide  ye  here  for  the  present,  an'  ye  will.  I  dinna  like 
tramps  as  a  permanent  institution  in  the  house,  but  I'll  no 
turn  ye  out  into  the  storm,  sae  bide  where  ye  be." 

And  having  uttered  this  oracle,  old  Andy  replaced  his 
pipe  between  his  lips,  and  smoked  vigorously  to  make  up 
for  lost  time. 

"  Y^hear  what  the  gudeman  says  ?  Hark  ye  now  to  the 
wisdom  of  ago,  and  bide  ye  quiet  till  I  make  ye  a  bed,  and 
I'll  wrap  ye  weel  and  pit  ye  warm  to  sleep  the  night,  and 
in  the  morn  ye  ma}7  gae  where  ye  like." 

"  Thanks — a  thousand  thanks  for  your  dear  mercy  !  but 
in  the  morning  it  will  be  too  late.  Ah,  heaven,  yes  ! " 
exclaimed  the  girl,  as  a  sudden  terror  wildly  dilated  her 
large  gray  eyes.  "  I  must  go  on  to-night,  or  fail,  where 
failure  would  be  despair  and  death  !  " 


THE     EVE     OF      \.     GRAND     WEDDING.         35 

"  Gae  on  to  night !  Gude  save  us  !  gae  on  where  ?  " 
exclaimed  the  wondering  woman. 

"  To  Old  Lyon  Hall/'  answered  the  stranger,  moving 
towards  the  door. 

"  Stay— come  back  !  Ye  are  stark  daft !  To  the 
Hall  ?  "  cried  Jenny,  following  her  guest. 

"  Yes,  to  the  old  Hall/'  said  the  stranger,  pausing  court 
eously. 

"  Why,  that's  where  the  grand  wedding  will  be  the 
night." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  the  girl. 

"  But — ye'll  surely  no  be  one  o'  the  invited  guests  ?  " 
exclaimed  Jenny  in  bewilderment. 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  the  girl,  with  a  strange  smile. 

"Look  ye,  lass.  Who  be  ye  ?  What  be  your  name,  an 
ye  have  no  objection  to  tell  it?"  gravely  inquired  Mrs. 
Birney. 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  tell  my  name ;  it  has  never  been 
sullied  by  dishonor  ;  it  is  Anna  Lyon,"  replied  the  girl, 
with  her  hand  upon  the  door-latch. 

"ANNA  LYON  !  Sign  us,  and  save  us  !  that  is  the  name 
of  the  bride  that  is  to  be  married  to-night ! "  cried  Jenny 
Birney,  aghast. 

"  I  know  it  is,"  quietly  replied  the  girl. 

"  And  ye  hae  the  same  name  ?  " 

"  The  very  same,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Gude  save  us  !  then  ye'll  be  kin  to  the  family  ?  " 

"  ISTo,  no  kin,"  answered  the  girl,  calmly.  Then  to  her 
self  she  murmured,  "  / — 'a  little  more  than  kin,'  lie,  "a 
little  less  than  kind.'  " 

"  What  are  ye  muttering  to  yoursel'  ?  Ye  say  ye're  no 
kin  to  the  family,  and  if  ye  are  no,  what  will  be  taking  you 
to  the  old  Hall  the  night?" 

"  Something  more  than  a  matter  of  life  and  death ! 
And  oh,  I  must  be  gone  !  "  said  the  girl,  with  the  same 


36  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

look  of  terror  that  she  had  shown  once  before,  now  smiting 
all  the  remaining  color  from  her  pale  face,  and  leaving  it 
white  as  marble. 

"  Good  bye — good  bye,  and  a  thousand  heart-felt  thanks 
for  all  your  kindness,"  she  added. 

While  she  spoke  she  deftly  slid  the  bolts  of  the  door,  and 
as  she  ceased  she  quickly  slipped  through  it,  and  ran  away 
like  one  who  feared  to  be  hindered  or  pursued. 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  "  screamed  Jenny,  rushing  after  her,  and 
looking  out  into  the  night. 

But  her  strange  visitor  had  vanished  in  the  darkness. 

"  liech  !  she's  clean  daft,  and  she'll  perish  in  the  storm  !  " 
cried  Jenny  in  consternation,  as  she  drew  in  her  head. 

"  Come  away,  gudewife,  and  shut  the  door  !  "  bawled  old 
Andy,  provoked  past  his  patience. 

"Eh,  gude  man,  rin — rin  after  her.  Ye  may  catch  her 
an  ye  start  now,"  prayed  Jenny,  pulling  down  her  husband's 
shawl  from  its  peg,  and  throwing  it  over  his  shoulders — 
"  rin,  rin  for  your  life,  Andy  !  " 

"De'il  be  in  my  legs,  then,  if  I  budge  a  foot  from  the 
fire  !  I'm  in  a  condition  to  rin,  am  I  no  ?  wi'  both  my 
shoes  off.  and  mysel'  soaking  wi'  sweat  !  I'll  no  rin  for  ony 
daft  lass  or  lad  in  Christendom  !  ''  grumbled  the  old  man. 

"  But  for  the  Lord's  sake,  Andy  ! "  pleaded  the  woman. 

"I  would  do  or y thing  in  reason  for  the  Lord's  sake,  an' 
He  distinctly  called  me,  but  I'm  no  conscious  of  any 
special  call  to  pit  myself  forward  in  this  work.  Sae  just 
shut  up  the  house,  Jenny,  wom-an.  and  come  away  to  bed. 
And  I'll  no  open  again  this  night  to  man  or  woman,  saint 
or  devil,  so  there,  now  !  "  growled  old  Andy. 

"  I'se  shut  the  door,  but  I'se  nae  shut  the  window.  And 
I'se  no  gaun  to  bed  this  night,  I'se  sit  up  and  show  a  light, 
if  the  poor  wandering  lassie  behooves  to  come  back,"  said 
Mrs.  Birney,  firmly,  as  she  fastened  the  door,  and  sat  the 
lantern  on  the  little  stand  under  the  window,  with  the  light 
turned  towards  the  road. 


THE  EYE  OF  A  GRAND  WEDDING.    37 

"  The  more  fool  you,"  observed  Mr.  Birney,  as  he  began 
to  draw  off  his  stockings,  and  prepare  himself  for  his  bed, 
that  stood  conveniently  near,  in  a  recess  curtained  oft'  from 
the  other  portion  of  the  room. 

Mrs.  Birney  drew  her  spinning  wheel  to  the  chimney 
corner  nearest  the  window,  where  she  had  placed  the  light, 
and  she  sat  down  and  began  to  spin. 

"  Ye'll  no  be  whirling  that  machine  and  keeping  me 
awake,  Jenny,  woman  ! "  expostulated  the  old  man  as  he 
got  into  bed. 

"  But  if  I  maun  sit  up,  I  maun  na  lose  my  time." 

"Then  knit  or  sew." 

She  good-lmmoredly  put  aside  her  wheel  and  took  from 
the  top  of  the  corner  cupboard  her  work-basket  half  filled 
with  woolen  socks,  which  she  sat  down  to  darn. 

Old  Andy  was  soon  snoring  under  his  blankets. 

Jenny  sat  darning  and  sighing,  and  occasionally  peering 
through  the  window  into  the  darkness  without.  The  vio 
lence  of  the  storm  seemed  "to  be  subsiding,  though  still  it 
rained  heavily. 

"  It's  like  murder,"  she  murmured.  "  And,  if  she  be 
found  cold  and  dead  in  the  morn  I  shall  never  forgi'e 
mysel'.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  sleep  again.  Eh  !  but  I 
wish  I  had  rin  out  after  her  mysel.'  But  then  the 
gudeman  would  na  hae  let  me.  Hech  !  but  they  get  hard 
and  selfish  wi'  age  and  infirmities,  these  men.  Eh  !  how  he 
sleeps  and  snores,  as  if  there  was  no  misery  in  the  world," 
she  added,  glancing  at  the  bed. 

But  the  old  curmudgeon's  rest  was  destined  to  be 
broken. 

There  came  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  dashing  along  the 
flooded  road.  The  toll-gate  bar  was  cleared  at  a  bound. 
Jenny  heard  the  spring  and  splash,  and  she  started  to  her 
feet,  dropping  her  work-basket. 

The  next  moment  there  came  a  loud  rapping  at  the  door. 
It  aroused  the  old  man  from  his  sleep. 


38  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  What  the  de'il  is  that  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  angrily. 

"There's  ane  without,"  whispered  Jenny,  in  a  scared 
tone,  trembling  in  spite  of  herself. 

"Worse  luck  !  Is  it  a  Witch's  Sabbath  and  are  all  the 
warlocks  and  witches  riding  to  it  by  this  road  the  night  ?  " 
he  growled. 

The  knocking  grew  louder. 

"  Who  is  it,  Jenny  ?  "  he  cried. 

"I  dinna  know,"'  whispered  the  woman. 

"  Canna  ye  gae  and  see  ?  " 

The  knocking  became  vociferous,  the  horseman  seemed 
to  be  hammering  at  the  door  with  the  loaded  end  of  his 
riding-whip. 

"  Haud  your  noise  out  there,  will  you  then  ! "  bawled  the 
old  man,  bouncing  out  of  bed,  throwing  a  blanket  around 
him  and  seizing  his  blunderbus,  while  Jenny  crept  to  the 
door  and  cautiously  opened  it,  keeping  herself  behind  it. 

The  rain  had  nearly  ceased  and  the  sky  was  clearing. 

A  tall,  stout,  dark  man,  in  a  dark  riding  coat,  stood  out 
side.  With  one  hand  he  held  the  bridle  of  his  horse,  and 
with  the  other  the  handle  of  his  riding-whip,  with  which 
he  had  just  rapped. 

So  much  Jenny,  cautiously  peeping  around  the  edge  of 
the  door,  could  make  out. 

The  old  toll-taker  came  forward,  wrapped  in  his  blanket 
like  a  North  American  Indian,  and  carrying  his  musket  in 
his  hand,  and  growling: 

"  Am  I  no  to  have  ony  peace  or  quiet  the  night  ?  I'd  as 
weel  be  keeper  o'  one  o'  these  new-fangled  railway  stations 
where  the  trains  are  aye  coming  and  going  day  and  night, 
instead  o'  this  once  quiet  toll-gate.  Who  be  ye,  sir,  and 
what's  your  will?  "  he  growled  at  this  second  stranger. 

"  I  am  a  traveller  going  to  Old  "Lyon  Hall ;  and  I  wish 
to  know  the  nearest  road,"  answered  the  horseman.  But  a 
sudden  parting  blast  of  wind  drowned  half  his  words. 


THE  EVE  OF  A  GRAND  WEDDING.    39 

"  And  by  the  way,  how  came  ye  on  this  side  of  the  road, 
when  the  great  bar  is  up  for  the  night  ?  "  angrily  demanded 
the  toil-taker." 

"  Oh,  my  horse  took  it  at  a  bound." 

"  An  he  had  broken  your  neck  it  might  hue  been  a  gude 
job  and  saved  the  hangman  trouble,"  growled  old  Andy. 

"Thanks,"  laughed  the  stranger,  "  but  there  was  not  a 
chance  of  it ;  my  horse  is  a  famous  hunter.  Will  you  direct 
me  on  my  road  ?  " 

"  Where  did  you  say  you  were  going?  " 

«  To  Old  Lyon  Hall." 

"  To  Old  Lyon  Hall ! — Jenny,  woman,  here  is  anither 
one  !  It's  there  they  are  holding  the  witches'  dance  and 
no  wedding,  for  the  warlocks  and  witches  that  flit  by  this 
way  are  no  wedding  guests."  said  the  old  man,  turning  to 
his  wife. 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  direct  me  to  the  Hall  ?  " 
courteously  persisted  the  traveller. 

"  Oh,  ay,  I'll  direct  ye  fast  enough  ;  but  be  ye'  one  o?  the 
wedding  guests  ?  " 

"  Xo,  not  exactly,"  laughed  the  man. 

"  Hark  to  him  Jenny  !  how  much  he  talks  like  the  ither 
one  !  Then  what's  your  business  at  the  Hall  the  night  ?  It's 
unco  late  to  a  make  visit,  and  varry  oncivil  to  go  oninvited 
where  they're  handing  a  bridal.  Wouldna  the  morn  serve 
your  turn  just  as  weel  ?  ''  mockingly  inquired  Andy. 

"  No  ;  the  morning  would  be  too  late  for  my  purpose.  It 
is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  I  should  reach  the  Hall  to 
night  !  "  said  the  horseman,  beginning  to  grow  restive  under 
the  influence  of  some  hidden  anxiety  that  he  could  not  en 
tirely  conceal. 

"  Is  it  an  affair  of  ( life  and  death  ?  '  "  inquired  Andy, 
with  a  touch  of  sarcasm  in  his  tone,  as  he  repeated  the 
words  tha":  had  been  used  by  the  unhappy  girl  who  had  pre 
ceded  thin  stranger  on  this  road. 


40  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES 

"More — much  more  than  life  and  death  is  involved," 
muttered  the  traveller,  in  a  voice  vibrating  with  the  agita 
tion  that  he  could  no  longer  control. 

"Hark  to  him  again,  Jenny!"  grinned  the  old  man. 
"Just  the  way  the  ither  one  talked.  The  de'il  maun  be 
holding  a  levee  at  the  Hall ! " 

"  I  beg  you  will  not  detain  me ;  pray  put  me  on  my 
road,"  impatiently  urged  the  stranger. 

"  Ob,  ay !  ye  see  the  road  before  ye.  Ye'll  just  face  it 
and  follow  your  nose,  and  it  will  lead  to  the  old  Hall.  Ye 
canna  miss  it.  It  stands  off  about  a  quarter  mile  from  the 
road,  on  the  right.  There's  woods  before  it,  and  the  Porcu 
pine  Mountains  behind  it.  It  will  be  the  first  grand  like 
mansion  ye'll  come  to,  and  the  only  one,  an'  ye  were  to  ride 
a  bunder  miles  in  that  direction." 

"  Thanks,"  said  the  stranger,  lifting  his-cap  and  remount 
ing  his  horse. 

11  And  oh,  kind  gentleman,"  said  Jenny,  coming  forward, 
"  an?  ye  should  meet  wi'  a  poor  daft  lassie  who  gaed  before 
on  the  same  road,  ye'll  no  let  her  perish  for  the  want  of  a 
helping  hand.  -For  the  love  of  the  Lord,  ye'll  get  her 
under  shelter  or  bring  her  back  bere." 

"  l  A  poor  daft  lassie,'  "  repeated  the  stranger,  bewildered 
by  the  woman's  words  and  manner. 

"  Ay,  sir  ;  a  poor  bit  child  wha  canna  guide  hersel'  to  ony 
gude  end." 

"  A  young  tramp,  sir,"  explained  the  old  man.  "  A 
young  tramp  who  passed  this  way  an  hour  ago  ;  and  ye 
should  get  her  pit  into  a  House  of  Correction,  ye  might  be 
doing  her  good  service." 

u  I  have  no  time  to  stop,  but  if  I  should  see  the  young 
woman  I  will  do  what  I  can  for  her.  Good  night,''  said  the 
traveller,  putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  galloping  away  as 
if  determined  not  to  be  detained  another  moment. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Jenny,  there's  something  unco  wrong 


AT     THE      OLD      HALL.  41 

up  at  the  old  Hall !  And  now  shut  up  the  hous*  and  come 
away  to  bed/'  said  old  Andy,  turning  from  the  door,  and 
dragging  his  blanket  behind  him  like  a  court  train. 

"I  couldna  sleep  a  wink  wi'out  hearing  what  becomes  o' 
that  poor  houseless  child.  I'll  sit  up  and  sew,  and  show  a 
licrht  i'  the  window,  in  case  she  behooves  to  come  back 

O  ' 

again/'  replied  Mrs.  Birney,  replacing  the  lantern  on  the 
stand  before  the  window,  resuming  her  seat  on  her  low  chair 
in  the  chimney  corner,  and  taking  up  her  work,  while  the 
old  man,  for  the  last  time  that  night,  shut  up  the  house  and 
went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AT    THE    OLD    HALL. 

Yes,  there  thou  art  below  the  hill, 

By  evergreens  encircled  still, 

Old  hall  that  time  hath  deigned  to  spare, 

Mid  rugged  rocks  and  forests  fair, 

And  nightshade  o'er  the  casement  creeping, 

And  owlet  in  the  crevice  sleeping. 

And  antique  chairs  and  broidered  bed, 

By  housewife's  patient  needle  spread. — ANON. 

OLD  Lyon  Hall  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  Porcupine,  an  off 
shoot  of  the  Alleghanies,  in  one  of  the  wildest  and  most 
picturesque  counties  in  Virginia. 

It  was  built  in  the  Tudor  style  of  domestic  architecture, 
very  irregularly,  with  many  gable  ends,  gothic  windows  and 
twisted  chimneys.  Its  walls  of  old  red  sandstone  contrasted 
gloomily  with  the  dark  hue  of  the  evergreen  trees  that 
bristled  up  above  it,  and  gave  the  mountain  its  descriptive 
name. 

Heavy  woods,  bare,  gray  crags,  and  tumbling  toi  rents 
surrounded  it,  and  gave  a  savage  and  sombre  aspect  to  the 
scene.  Below  the  Hall  a  turbulent  little  river,  spanned  by 
a  rustic  bridge,  rushed  and  roared  along  its  rocky  bed. 


42  THE      CHANGED      BKIDES. 

The  Hall  was  very  old.  It  had  been  built  nearly  two 
hundred  years  ago  by  a  Scotchman  named  Saul  Sauvage 
Lyon,  who  had  received  a  grant  of  the  land  from  James  the 
First.  It  had  remained  ever  since  in  the  family  of  the 
founder,  whose  descendants  had  frequently  distinguished 
themselves,  as  soldiers,  or  statesmen,  in  every  epoch  of  the 
country's  history,  either  as  a  colony  or  a  commonwealth. 

Some,  few  years  since,  being  the  date  of  this  story,  the 
master  of  the  Old  Lyon  Hall  and  Manor  was  General 
Leonard  Lyon,  a  retired  army  officer,  and  a  veteran  of  the 
war  of  eighteen  hundred  and  twelve. 

General  Lyon  had  married  very  early  in  his  youth,  and 
had  enjoyed  many  years  of  calm  domestic  happiness.  But 
now  his  wife  and  children  were  all  dead,  and  his  only  living 
descendant  was  his  grandchild,  the  beautiful  Anna  Lyon, 
"  sole  daughter  of  c  his  '  house." 

Added  to  the  great  sorrow  of  bereavement  was  vexation, 
that,  for  the  want  of  male  heirs,  his  old  family  estate  must 
at  last  "  full  to  the  distaff." 

But  there  might  be  found  a  remedy  to  this  lesser  evil. 

General  Lyon  had  a  younger  brother,  Chief  Justice 
Lyon,  of  Richmond.  And  the  chief  justice  had  an  only 
son. 

Young  Alexander  Lyon  was  a  bright,  handsome,  attrac 
tive  lad,  a  few  years  older  than  his  cousin  Anna. 

Under  all  the  circumstances,  if  it  was  not  perfectly 
proper,  it  was  at  least  natural  and  pardonable  that  old  Gen 
eral  Lyon  should  wish  his  granddaughter  to  become  the  wife 
of  his  nephew,  so  that  while  she  inherited  his  estate,  she 
might  perpetuate  his  name. 

Quite  early  in  the  childhood  of  the  boy  and  girl,  the  gen 
eral  proposed  their  betrothal  to  the  chief  justice,  who 
eagerly  acceded  to  the  plan.  And  so  the  affair  was  settled 
— by  the  parents.  It  was  not  considered  necessary  to  con 
sult  the  children. 


AT      THE      OLD      HALL.  43 

Alexander  was  sent  to  Yale  College,  where,  for  a  few 
years,  lie  led  rather  a  fast  life  for  a  student. 

And  Anna  was  placed  at  a  fashionable  boarding  school  in 
New  York,  where  she  had  a  great  deal  more  liberty  than 
was  good  for  her. 

Twice  a  year  the  young  persons  were  permitted  to  meet 
— when  they  spent  the  midsummer  vacation  at  old  Lyon 
Hall,  where  the  chief  justice  and  his  wife  also  came  on  a 
visit  to  the  general,  and  when  they  kept  the  Christmas 
holidays  at  the  splendid  town  house  of  the  chief  justice  at 
Richmond,  where  the  general  also  went  to  pay  back  his 
brother's  visit.  This  arrangement  was  of  course  very 
agreeable  to  all  parties. 

But  as  the  boy  and  girl  grew  towards  manhood  and 
womanhood,  it  was  thought  well  to  change  this  routine. 
And  so,  sometimes  in  the  midsummer  vacation,  the  whole 
party,  consisting  of  both  families,  would  go  for  a  tour 
through  the  most  attractive  places  of  summer  resort.  And 
at  Christmas  they  would  keep  the  holidays  in  Washington. 

On  all  these  occasions  the  young  lady  and  gentleman, 
under  the  auspices  of  their  elders,  entered  very  freely  into 
the  fashionable  amusements  of  the  season,  with  the  under 
standing,  however,  that  they  were  not  to  fall  in  love,  or 
even  to  flirt  with  any  one  but  each  other. 

Miss  Lyon  and  Mr.  Alexander  seemed  at  first  to  have  no 
particular  objection  to  this  arrangement.  They  had  always 
been  fond  of  each  other,  much  fonder  than  of  any  one  else. 
But  ah  !  theirs  was  not  the  love  that  would  excuse,  much 
less  justify  marriage. 

It  has  been  said  that  when  two  persons  of  like  com 
plexion  and  temperament  intermarry,  wise  nature  and 
sacred  love  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  union.  And 
the  truth  spoken  to-day  is  as  old  as  the  creation  of  man. 

Anna  and  Alexander  were  of  the  same  complexion  and 
the  same  temperament;  both  were  plump,  fair,  blue-eyed 


44  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

and  yellow-haired,  both  lively  and  fond  of  pleasure,  and 
both,  on  the  surface,  and  in  matters  of  little  moment,  were 
amiable  and  yielding1,  but  below  the  surface,  and  in  affairs  of 
importance,  resolute  and  determined  as  destiny  and  death. 
In  person  and  in  character  they  were  as  much  alike  as 
twin  brother  and  sister. 

This  similarity,  while  it  made  their  association  as  rela 
tives  very  agreeable,  utterly  precluded  the  possibility  of 
their  becoming  lovers,  in  the  common  sense  of  the  word. 
They  did  not  know  this,  when  their  hearts  were  entirely 
free  from  any  other  attachment  that  might  have  awakened 
their  consciousness. 

There  wras  no  immediate  hurry  about  the  projected 
marriage.  It  was  certain  to  take  place,  the  parents  con 
cluded,  and  so  they  neither  worried  themselves  nor  their 
children  prematurely. 

Alexander  had  to  finish  his  college  course,  to  graduate 
and  to  make  the  "  grand  tour,"  as  was  usual  with  young 
gentlemen  of  his  position. 

When  he  should  have  accomplished  all  this,  he  would  be 
about  twenty-three  years  of  age  and  his  bride  elect  would 
be  about  eighteen — both  quite  young  enough  to  marry,  the 
old  folks  argued. 

The  plan  was  partly  carried  out. 

Alexander  Lyon  graduated  with  honors  and  embarked 
for  Europe.  He  travelled  over  quite  a  considerable  portion 
of  the  Eastern  Continent.  He  was  gone  two  years,  at  the 
end  of  which  he  returned  to  claim  his  promised  bride. 

Active  preparations  were  made  for  the  marriage.  But 
fate  seemed  to  be  against  it.  A  few  days  before  the  one 
set  apart  for  the  ceremony,  while  the  whole  of  both  fam 
ilies  were  assembled  at  Old  Lyon  Hall  to  do  honor  to  the 
occasion,  Chief  Justice  Lyon  was  suddenly  struck  dead  by 
apoplexy.  Instead  of  a  wedding  there  was  a  funeral,  and 
the  family  went  into  mourning  for  a  year. 


AT      THE      OLD      HALL.  45 

At  the  end  of  that  time  preparations  were  again  made 
for  the  marriage,  which  was  again  arrested  by  the  hand  of 
death. 

A  malignant  fever  was  prevailing,  and  Mrs.  Lyon,  the 
widow  of  the  chief  justice,  was  one  of  its  first  victims. 

At  length,  at  the  close  of  this  second  term  of  mourning 
and  seclusion,  the  household  awoke  as  from  a  nightmare 
dream  and  busied  itself  with  blithe  bridal  affairs. 

The  splendid  city  mansion  and  the  fine  old  country  house 
of  the  late  chief  justice  were  both  renovated  and  refurnished 
in  costly  style  for  the  reception  of  the  new  mistress. 

It  was  settled  that  the  marriage  should  take  place  early 
in  ^November.  In  accordance  with  the  old-time  prejudices 
of  General  I/von,  it  was  to  be  solemnized,  in  the  evening, 
in  the  great  drawing-room  of  Old  Lyon  Hall,  in  the  pres 
ence  of  a  large  party  of  friends,  who  were  afterwards  to  be 
entertained  with  a  ball  and  supper.  The  bride  and  groom 
were  to  leave  the  next  morning  for  a  short  tour,  after  which 
they  were  to  go  to  Richmond  and  settle  down  for  the 
winter  in  their  town  house,  where  they  were  to  be  joined 
by  the  general. 

Such  was  the  arrangement.  But  "man  proposes  and" 
— tyou  know  the  rest. 

The  autumn  weather  that  had  been  glorious  with  the 
11  excess  of  glory "  in  a  genial,  refulgent  and  prolonged 
Indian  Summer,  suddenly  changed.  The  wedding-day 
dawned  threateningly.  ~No  sun  shone  on  it.  Heavy  black 
clouds  darkened  the  sky ;  wild,  mournful  winds  wailed 
through  the  woods  ;  violent  gusts  of  rain  dashed  suddenly 
down  at  intervals  and  as  suddenly  ceased. 

The  inmates  of  the  old  Hall  watched  the  weather  in  hope 
and  fear.  Would  it  clear  up  ?  Or  would  it  grow  worse  ? 
they  asked  themselves  and  each  other.  Certainly  there  was 
no  sign1  of  its  clearing ;  quite  the  contrary,  for  as  the  day 
declined  the  storm  thickened. 


46  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Fires  were  kindled  in  every  room  of  the  old  house. 

In  the  great  drawing-room  the  two  broad  fire-places,  one 
at  each  end,  were  piled  high  with  huge  hickory  logs,  that 
were  burning  and  blazing  and  filling  the  long  room  with 
glowing  light  and  genial  warmth,  all  the  more  comfortable 
and  delightful  in  contrast  to  the  tempestuous  weather  with 
out — shining  on  the  tall  brass  andirons  and  fender ;  shin 
ing  on  the  polished  oak  floor,  with  its  rich  Turkey  rugs  laid 
before  each  fire-place  and  sofa ;  shining  on  the  wainscotted 
walls  with  their  time-honored  family  portraits ;  shining  on 
the  bright  black  walnut  furniture;  arid  on  every  surface 
and  point  that  could  reflect  a  ray  of  light. 

This  fine  old-fashioned  drawing-room  was  as  yet  vacant, 
waiting  for  the  evening  crowd  of  wedding  guests,  if  indeed 
the  state  of  the  weather  and  the  roads  should  permit  them 
to  assemble. 

Fires  were  kindled  in  the  long  dining-room,  where  a 
sumptuous  supper  was  laid  out  for  the  expected  company ; 
and  in  all  the  bed-chambers  which  had  been  opened  and 
aired,  cleaned  and  decorated  for  such  of  the  guests  as 
should  come  from  a  distance,  and  need  to  change  their 
dress  and  perhaps  to  lie  down  and  rest. 

In  one  of  the  most  spacious  and  comfortable  of  these 
upper-chambers,  late  in  the  afternoon  of  this  day,  sat  the 
bride-elect. 

She  reclined  in  an  easj-  chair,  with  her  feet  upon  the 
fender  and  her  eyes  fixed  moodily,  dreamily  upon  the  glow 
ing  fire  before  her,  and  listened  to  the  beating  storm  with 
out. 

Here  in  this  room,  also,  the  ruddy  blaze  shone  on  dark 
wainscotted  walls,  relieved  by  crimson  damask  window- 
curtains,  and  on  a  polished  oaken  floor,  bare  of  carpets. 
except  for  the  rugs  that  lay  upon  the  hearth  before  the 
dressing-table  and  beside  the  bed. 

This  was  indeed  a  lonely,  silent,  sombre  scene  in  which 


AT     THE      OLD      HALL.  47 

to  find  a  maiden  on  her  bridal  evening.  The  tempest 
raged  without,  and  the  wind  and  rain  beat  against  the 
walls  and  windows  as  if  they  would  batter  them  down.  In 
the  pauses  of  the  storm  she  could  hear  the  rushing  of  the 
swollen  torrents  and  the  roaring  of  the  rising  river.  She 
knew  that  the  roads  must  be  almost  impassable  and  the 
streams  unfordable.  In  truth,  no  one  had  bargained  for 
such  weather  on  the  wedding-day. 

Of  the  hundred  and  fifty  guests  who  had  been  invited, 
not  one  had  yet  appeared  ;  not  one  of  her  bridesmaids  ;  not 
the  minister  who  was  to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony  ; 
not  even  her  bridegroom  !  And  yet  all  these  had  been  ex 
pected  at  an  early  hour  of  the  afternoon. 

Everything  was  ready. for  their  reception  and  for  the 
rites  and  festivals  of  the  evening.  Every  nook  and  corner 
of  the  genial  old  home  smiled  its  welcome  in  anticipation  of 
the  arrival  of  these  expected  guests ;  and  yet  not  one  of 
them  came. 

Nor,  when  she  listened  to  the  howling  of  the  tempest 
without,  could  the  young  bride-elect  wonder  at  their 
absence. 

Her  rich  and  varied  wardrobe  and  her  rare  and  costly 
jewels  were  all  packed  in  half  a  dozen  large  travelling- 
trunks  that  stood  ready  for  removal  outside  her  chamber 
door  in  the  upper  hall. 

Her  wedding-dress  of  rich  white  velvet,  her  large  veil  of 
fine  lace,  her  wreath  of  orange-flowers,  and  all  the  accesso 
ries  of  her  bridal  costume  lay  out  upon  the  bed.  Yet  she 
doubted  that  she  should  be  called  to  wear  them  that  night : 
and  she  sat  still  gazing  into  the  fire,  listening  to  the  storm, 
and  making  no  motion  towards  her  toilet. 

She  looked  a  beautiful  young  creature  as  she  sat  there, 
with  her  graceful  form,  her  perfect  features,  her  pure  com 
plexion,  her  soft  blue  eyes  and  pale  yellow  hair. 

Of  what  was  she  dreaming  as  she.  sat  gazing  into  the 


48  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

fire,  and  heaving  deep,  heavy  sighs?  Surely  not  only  of 
the  storm  and  the  trifling  delay  of  her  marriage,  for  she 
must  have  known  that  it  could  only  be  a  question  of  a  few 
hours,  and  that  whoever  might  stay  away,  her  bridegroom 
would  certainly  keep  his  appointment.  What  serious 
subject  of  thought  had  she  ?  what  possible  subject  of  grief? 
Blest  with  youth,  health  and  beauty,  with  high  birth, 
great  wealth  and  many  accomplishments,  about  to  form 
the  most  brilliant  marriage  of  the  year,  with  a  gentle 
man  who  seemed  her  equal  in  all  respects,  if  not  her  su 
perior  in  some,  about  to  preside  over  the  most  splendid 
establishment  in  the  city  and  the  grandest  old  house  in  the 
country,  and  to  reign  everywhere  a  queen  in  society,  what 
imaginable  cause  of  discontent  could  she  have? 

Ah,  friends  !  did  ever  any  of  these  things,  in  themselves 
alone,  satisfy  the  hunger  of  any  human  heart — make  any 
living  creature  happy  ? 

The  darling  daughter,  the  rich  heiress,  the  beautiful 
bride  elect,  sat  and  sighed  and  gazed,  and  gazed  and  sighed 
as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

There  were  secrets  in  the  life  of  this  motherless  girl  un 
known  to  her  nearest  relatives,  unsuspected  by  her  ap 
pointed  bridegroom.  Of  that  more  hereafter. 

She  sat  there  without  moving  until  dark  afternoon  deep 
ened  into  black  night,  and  the  raging  of  the  storm  became 
terrific.  How  long  she  would  have  sat  thus  I  do  not  know, 
for  just  as  the  little  toy  of  a  clock  upon  her  mantlepiece 
chimed  nine  her  door  opened,  and  her  own  maid,  Matty, 
entered  the  room. 

"  I  told  you  not  to  bring  lights  until  I  should  ring  for 
them,"  said  Miss  Lyon,  impatiently  turning  her  head. 

"  I  know,  Miss  Anna  ;  I  didn't  bring  no  lights.  I  come 
to  tell  you  how  Marse  Alesander  has  jus'  arroved." 

"  He  has  come — and  through  all  this  storm  ?  "  exclaimed 
Anna  H  a  startled  voice. 


AT     THE      OLD      HALL  49 

"Yes,  Miss,  which  Old  Marse  as'ed  if  you  was  ready, 
and  sent  me  up  to  'quire." 

"  I  can  be  ready  soon,  Matty.  But — has  any  one  else 
come  ?  " 

«  No,  Miss." 

"  Not  the  minister  ?  " 

"  The  which,  Miss  ?  " 

"  The  Eeverend  Doctor  Barbar." 

"No,  Miss." 

"  Then  I  don't  see  the  use  of  my  disturbing  myself  yet 
awhile.  There  can  be  no  marriage  without  a  minister," 
said  the  bride  elect,  with  something  very  much  like  a  sigh 
of  relief. 

"  You  may  go,  Matilda,"  she  added  to  the  girl,  who  still 
lingered  at  the  door. 

Matty  vanished,  and  Miss  Lyon  resigned  herself  to  her 
reverie. 

A  few  minutes  passed,  and  Matty  reappeared. 

"  What  now  ?  "  demanded  the  young  lady. 

"  Please,  Miss,  ole  Marse  have  sent  Jacob,  with  the  close 
carriage,  to  fetch  the  min's'er,  and  say  he  will  be  here  in 
half  an  hour  if  you  will  get  ready." 

"  Matty,  where  is  your  master  ?  " 

"  In  his  study,  Miss." 

"Alone?" 

"  Yes,  Miss." 

"  Wliere  is  Mr.  Alexander  ?  " 

"  He's  gone  up  to  his  own  room,  Miss,  to  fix  hisself." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  young  lady,  as  she  arose  and  left 
her  chamber. 

She  passed  up  the  broad  upper  hall  that  was  now  ruddy 
and  cheerful  with  the  light  of  many  fires,  that  shone 
through  the  open  doors  of  the  waiting  bedrooms,  and  she 
went  straight  to  the  little  room  with  the  bay  window,  at 
the  front  end,  over  the  main  entrance. 
3 


50  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

She  opened  the  door  and  found  her  grandfather  seated 
in  his  big  armchair  by  his  writing  table,  on  which  lay 
books,  papers,  pens,  and  so  forth. 

But  the  old  gentleman  was  neither  reading  nor  writing. 
He  was  simply  sitting  and  waiting. 

He  was  a  very  fine-looking  old  man,  tall  and  stout,  with 
a  full  face,  noble  features,  fair  complexion,  and  snow  white 
hair  and  beard.  He  wore  an  evening  dress  of  black  broad 
cloth,  with  a  white  vest  and  white  cravat.  His  white 
gloves  lay  beside  him,  ready  for  use. 

"  All  alone,  gran'pa  ?  "  inquired  Anna,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  my  pet — yes,  my  darling,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
rising  and  handing  his  granddaughter  to  a  seat  with  as 
much  courtesy  as  if  she  were  a  princess.  "  But  why  are 
you  not  dressed,  Anna  ?  It  is  late,  very  late." 

"  Oh,  gran'pa,  what  an  awful  night  for  a  wedding  !  And 
there  is  no  one  here,  and  no  one  likely  to  come." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  but  it  is  the  night  appointed,  and  your 
bridegroom  is  in  the  house,  and  the  minister  will  soon  be 
here." 

"  Gran'pa,"  pleaded  Anna,  leaving  her  seat  and  coming 
and  sitting  on  his  knee,  and  putting  her  arm  caressingly 
around  his  neck — "dear  gran'pa,  I  cannot  bear  to  be  mar 
ried  under  these  evil  auspices,  without  witnesses,  without 
bridesmaids,  and  on  a  dark  night  and  in  a  heavy  storm. 
Why  cannot  the  marriage  be  deferred  until  to-morrow 
morning  ?  What  difference  can  a  few  hours  make  ?  At 
least,  what  difference  that  is  not  very  desirable  ?  By  to 
morrow  the  storm  will  be  over.  The  ceremony  can  be  per 
formed  early  in  the  morning.  I  can  be  married  in  my 
travelling  dress.  The  supper  will  do  for  a  breakfast.  And 
we  can  start  immediately  upon  our  wedding  tour.  Say, 
gran'pa,  may  not  the  marriage  be  deferred  until  the  morn 
ing?  It  is  awful  to  be  married  in  solitude,  on  a  dark, 
stormy  night.  Say,  dear  gran'pa  !  May  not  the  marriage 
be  put  off  until  the  morning  ?  " 


AT      THE      OLD      HALL,  51 

"  My  dear,  no  ;  it  cannot  be." 

"  But— why  not  ?  " 

"For  many  reasons.  For  one — Anna,  I  confers,  old 
soldier  as  I  am,  to  a  little  superstition  on  some  subjects. 
This  marriage  has  been  already  put  off  twice.  If  it  should 
be  put  off'  a  third  time,  it  will  never  take  place.  A  marri 
age  thrice  deferred  never  comes  to  pass.  There,  my  child, 
go  and  dress.  It  is  nine  o'clock.  You  are  two  hours 
behind  time.  Alexander  is  nearly  ready,  and  the  minister 
will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
rising  and  gently  leading  his  favorite  out  of  the  room. 

" l  A  marriage  thrice  deferred  never  comes  to  pass.'  I 
wish  I  was  sure  of  that,  and  could  defer  mine  just  once 
more,"  mused  Anna,  as  she  went  back  to  her  room.  "  And 
yet,"  she  added,  compunctiously,  "that  is  unjust  and  un 
grateful  to  Alexander.  Poor  Alick  !  I  dare  say,  in  all  these 
years,  he  has  never  even  dreamed  of  any  other  girl  but  me, 
while  I — while  I — Ah,  Heaven  have  pity  on  us  !  Well, 
well,  I  will  bury  the  past  deep  in  forge tfulness,  and  I  will 
try  to  make  him  a  good  wife." 

When  she  reached  her  room  she  found  Matty  and 
Matty's  mother,  Marcy,  who  was  her  own  old  nurse,  in  at 
tendance.  The  fire  was  mended,  the  hearth  swept  and  the 
lamps  lighted.  The  two  on  her  dressing-table  shone  down 
upon  an  open  casket  of  jewels  that  blazed  with  blinding 
radiance. 

Anna  went  wearily  up  to  look  at  them. 

"  Mars'  Alic  sent  them  in  by  his  man,  honey,"  said  Aunt 
Jenny  in  explanation. 

It  was  a  splendid  set  of  diamonds,  consisting  of  ear-rings, 
breastpin,  necklace  and  bracelets. 

"  You  will  wear  them,  honey,  dough  dere  ain't  anybody 
to  see  them  ?  " 

"  Except  the  giver  !  Yes,  auntie,  I  will  wear  them. 
Poor  Alick  !  "  sighed  Anna,  sitting  down  on  her  dressing- 


52  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

stool,  and  resigning  herself  into  the  hands  of  her  atten 
dants. 

They-  went  willingly  to  work.  The  task  of  arranging 
their  mistress  for  her  bridal  was  with  them  a  labor  of  love. 

Old  Marcy  standing  behind  the  chair  brushed  and  braided 
the  beautiful  hair.  Young  Matty  on  the  floor,  encased  the 
dainty  feet  in  silken  hose  and  satin  slippers.  And  then 
the  beauty  stood  up  and  let  them  remove  her  wrapper  and 
put  on  her  robes  and  her  wreath,  and  her  veil.  But  with 
her  own  hands  she  clasped  the  diamond  necklace  around 
her  throat  and  the  diamond  bracelets  on  her  wrists,  and  put 
ear-rings  in  her  ears,  and  the  brooch  upon  her  bosom. 

And  when  her  toilet  was  completed  she  looked,  if  looks 
were  all,  a  very  royal  bride,  fit  to  share  a  young  monarch's 
throne. 

She  sat  down  again  and  said : 

"  Matty,  you  may  go  and  tell  your  master  that  I  am 
ready." 

The  girl  left  the  room  to  take  the  message,  but  in  the 
hall  she  ran  against  some  one  who  seemed  on  his  way  to 
speak  to  the  bride.  And  so  she  turned  back  to  say. 

"  Miss  Anna,  here's  Jake  asking  if  he  can  have  a  word 
with  you." 

"  Certainly.  Tell  the  boy  to  come  in,"  said  the  young 
lady. 

The  son  of  the  coachman,  one  of  the  younger  grooms,  en 
tered,  hat  in  hand,  bowing  low. 

"  Well,  my  boy,  what  is  it?  "  inquired  his  mistress. 

"  If  you  please,  Miss,  I  telled  her  as  she  couldn't,  and  she 
said  as  she  must,  and  I  telled  her  as  she  shouldn't,  and  she 
said  she  would,"  replied  Jake,  rather  incoherently. 

"'Would?'  what?— who?  I  don't  understand  you, 
boy." 

"Her,  Miss.  I  telled  her  she  couldn't,  nohow,  but  she 
1'owed  she  must,  anyhow.  And  I  telled  her  she  shouldn't 
then,  there  !  and  she  'lowed  she  would,  so  there  ! " 


THE      HOUSELESS      WANDERER.  53 

"  Would  what,  Jake  ?  " 

"  See  you  immediate,  Miss." 

"  Who  would  see  me  ?  " 

"  Her,  Miss." 

«  Who  is  she  ?  " 

"  The  young  woman,  which  I  think  she  is  crazy,  Miss, 
and  not  safe  to  be  seed." 

"  Oh,  dear  !  dear  me,  Jake,  what  young  woman  are  you 
talking  of  ?  "  said  Miss  Lyon,  impatiently. 

"  Her  as  runned  in  out'n  the  storm,  Miss,  and  said  how 
she  must  see  you;  and  I  telled  her  she  wasn't  fit  to  be 
seed  herself,  being  drippen  wet,  nor  safe  to  be  seed,  being 
sort  o'  cracked,  and — oh  my  laws  !  there  she  is  now,  a  fol 
lowed  of  me ! "  exclaimed  the  boy,  breaking  off  in  dismay, 
to  stare  with  wide  mouth  and  eyes  at  the  opening  door. 

Miss  Lyon  turned  her  head  in  that  direction,  and  saw 
standing  there  a  slight,  pale  young  creature,  enveloped  in  a 
long  gray  cloak,  with  its  hood  drawn  over  her  head  a^d 
shading  her  face, 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   HOUSELESS    WANDERER    AND    THE    BRIDE    ELECT. 

They  whispered — sin  a  shade  had  cast, 

Upon  her  youthful  frame, 
And  scornful  murmurs  as  she  past 

Were  mingled  with  her  name. 
"She  is  not  beautiful,"  they  said, 

I  saw  that  she  was  more  ; 
One  of  those  women,  women  dread, 

Men  fatally  adore. — AN  OK. 

AND  the  homeless  wanderer  through  the  wild  winter- 
night,  she  who  had  called  herself  Anna  Lyon,  stood  in  the 
presence  of  the  bride  elect. 

"Brasilia!  Drusilla  Sterling!     Is  it  you?     Is  it  really 


54  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

you  !  Oh,  my  poor  child,  how  happy  I  am  to  see  you  !  " 
exclaimed  Miss  Lyon,  in  the  utmost  surprise  and  delight, 
as  she  advanced  with  extended  hands  to  welcome  her  unex 
pected  guest. 

Drusilla  suffered  her  cold  fingers  to  be  clasped,  and  she 
raised  her  soft,  appealing  eyes  to  the  young  lady's  face  J 
but  she  spoke  no  word  in  reply. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  child,  how  sorrowful  we  have  been  for  you  \ 
Why  did  you  leave  your  home  ?  Where  have  you  been  ? 
What  have  you  been  doing  ?  Where  did  you  come  from 
last  ?  And  how  came  you  out  on  such  an  awful  night  ? 
And  oh,  poor  girl!  in  what  a  state  you  have  come  back? 
Don't  try  to  answer  any  of  my  questions  yet !  You  must 
be  warmed  and*  fed  first/'  said  Miss  Lyon.  who  in  her  ex 
citement  had  hurried  question  upon  question  to  the  ex 
hausted  girl,  and  seeing  that  she  could  not  answer,  repented 
her  own  thoughtless  vehemence,  and  turning  to  her  servants, 
said : 

"  Marcy,  take  off  her  cloak  and  hang  it  up,  and  sit  her 
down  in  that  arm-chair  before  the  fire,  and  remove  her  wet 
shoes.  And,  Jacob,  go  down  stairs  and  ask  Mrs.  Dill  to 
send  up  a  glass  of  hot  port  wine  negus,  and  some  warm,  dry- 
toast.  And  be  quick  about  it !  " 

Jake  hurried  away  to  do  his  errand. 

And  the  young  wanderer  permitted  the  old  nurse  to 
remove  her  cloak,  and  seat  her  in  the  chair  before  the  fire, 
and  take  off  her  wet  boots. 

Marcy  had  not  failed  to  see  the  fact  that  had  also  been 
apparent  to  the  old  woman  at  the  toll-gate.  And  as  she 
was  passing  out  of  the  room  with  the  wet  cloak  over  her 
arm,  and  the  wet  shoes  in  her  hand,  she  stopped  and  whis 
pered  to  her  young  mistress  : 

"  Lord  pity  her,  poor  thing,  I'm  right  down  sorry  for 
her ;  but  she  is  not  fit  to  be  in  your  presence,  Miss  Anna." 

For  an  instant  the  pure  and  high-born  maiden  recoiled 


THE      HOUSELESS     WANDERER.  55 

with  a  look  of  pain  and  horror ;  but  then  quickly  recover 
ing  herself,  she  murmured : 

"Hush,  no  more  of  that.  Take  those  damp  things  from 
the  room  and  hang  them  before  one-  of  the  spare  fires, 
Marcy." 

And  when  the  woman  had  gone,  Miss  Lyon  walked  up  to 
the  poor  wanderer  and  laid  her  hand  tenderly  on  her 
shoulder. 

The  little  pale  face  turned  itself  around  to  hers.  The 
soft  pleading  eyes  were  raised : 

"  Yes,  Miss  Lyon,  that  is  well.  Send  all  your  women 
from  the  room,  for  I  must  speak  with  you  alone,"  she  mur 
mured,  in  a  voice  vibrating  with  suppressed  anguish. 

"  Speak  to  me,  then,  my  child  j  and  speak  freely.  No 
mother  could  listen  to  your  story  with  more  sympathy  than 
I  shall,"  said  the  heiress,  drawing  a  chair  to  the  fire  and 
sitting  down  near  the  girl. 

"  You  are  not  yet  married  ?  the  ceremony  has  not  yet 
been  performed  ?  "  the  wanderer  inquired,  looking  wist 
fully  at  the  bride. 

"  No,  certainly  not,  or  I  should  not  be  here  ;  we  are 
waiting  for  the  minister.  Did  you  want  to  see  the 
pageantry,  my  child  ?  If  so,  you  can  do  so,"  said  the 
bride-elect,  smiling,  as  if  to  encourage  her  desponding 
protegee. 

"  /  want  to  see  it !  No,  Miss  Lyon,  I  came  here  to-night 
to  put  a  stop  to  it,"  exclaimed  the  girl. 

"  To  put  a  stop  to  it !  Drusilla,  are  you  mad,  my  dear  ?  " 
said  Miss  Lyon,  in  amazement. 

"  I  wish  I  was  !  I  should  have  no  duties  to  do  then ! 
Oh,  Miss  Lyon  !  " 

"  Explain  yourself,  my  dear  Drusilla ;  for  indeed  I  fear 
some  great  grief  has  distracted  your  mind." 

"No,  no;  but  oh,  Miss  Lyon,  I  am  about  to  give  you 
great  pain !  as  great  almost  as  I  suffer  myself.  Would  I 


56  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

could  suffer  alone!  Would  I  could  suffer  for  both!" 
moaned  Drusilla,  in  a  voice  full  of  woe,  as  she  bowed  her 
head  upon  her  hands. 

"  Speak  out ;  speak  freely/'  said  Miss  Lyon,  gravely. 

"  If  I  alone  were  concerned,  I  could  be  silent.  If  ifc 
were  not  to  save  one  from  crime  and  another  from  misery  I 
could  be  silent." 

"  Nay  now,  nay  now,  you  do  alarm  me,  Drusilla  !  To  the 
point,  dear  child !  to  the  point !  "  urged  Miss  Lyon. 

"You  are  thinking  ill  of  me?"  asked  the  girl,  raising 
those  meek  prayerful  eyes  to  the  face  of  the  young  lady. 

"No,  Drusilla!  No  one  can  judge  you  with  more  leni 
ency  than  I  shall,  my  poor,  dear  child.  Do  not  fear  to 
open  your  heart  to  me,"  said  Miss  Lyon. 

"  I  have  no  cause  to  fear  on  my  own  account,  lady.  You 
said  that  you  would  judge  me  with  leniency.  You  meant 
that  you  would  judge  me  with  charity.  But  I  am  not  a 
subject  of  charity,  Miss  Lyon,  I  am  a  subject  for  justice," 
answered  the  girl,  with  gentle  dignity. 

"I  am  waiting  to  hear  your  communication,  Drusillft, 
whenever  you  please  to  tell  it  to  me,"  said  Miss  Lyon. 

But  at  that  moment  the  door  was  opened,  and  Matilda 
entered  with  a  tray  in  her  hand. 

"If  you  please,  Miss,  ole  Marse  say  how  the  carriage 
hasn't  come  back  long  o'  the  min'ser  }Tet,  and  when  he 
comes  he  will  send  and  let  you  know,"  the  maid  announced. 

"  Very  well,  Matilda  ;  what  have  you  got  covered  up  on 
that  tray  ?  "  inquired  Miss  Lyon. 

"Please,  I  overtook  Jake,  awkward  fellow,  tumbling  up 
stairs  with  this  in  his  hands,  which  he  said  he  was  ordered 
to  fetch  it  up  for  some  one  as  was  with  you,  and  took  it 
away  from  him  to  fetch  it  myself,  because  if  I  hadn't,  he'd 
have  fallen  down  and  broken  all  the  glass  and  spilt  all  the 
wine,"  answered  the  girl,  turning  a  wistful  glance  upon  the 
stranger. 


A    CHILD'S    LOVE.  57 

"Quite  right!  Put  the  tray  on  that  little  table,  and  set 
the  table  here  by  the  fire,  and  leave  the  room,"  said  Miss 
Lyon. 

The  maid  obeyed  orders. 

When  she  was  gone  Miss  Lyon  uncovered  the  tray,  and 
pressed  the  refreshments  upon  her  visitor. 

Drusilla  eagerly  drank  the  warm  wine  and  water,  but 
declined  the  dry  toast. 

"  I  have  so  much  thirst  all  the  time,  but  I  cannot  swallow 
a  morsel  of  food,  for  it  always  chokes  me  ! "  she  said,  in  ex 
planation. 

When  the  girl  had  emptied  the  glass,  she  seemed  some 
what  revived  in  strength,  and  Miss  Lyon  again  suggested 
that  she  should  make  the  communication  she  promised. 

With  a  deep  sigh,  with  her  head  bowed  upon  her  bosom 
and  her  hands  clasped  upon  her  knees,  the  girl  began  the 
story  of  her  short  life  and  long  sorrow. 

But  perhaps  we  had  better  tell  it  for  her,  because,  for  one 
reason,  she  suppressed  much  that  would  have  vindicated 
herself;  since  to  have  related  it  would  have  criminated 
another.  We  will,  with  even-handed  justice  deal  fairly  by 
both. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 


A    CHILD  S    LOVE. 

It  is  an  olden  story, 

Yet,  yet  'tis  ever  new, 
And  whensoe'er  it  happens, 

It  breaks  the  heart  in  two. 

• — JJ'ROM  THE  GERMAN  or  UNGEB. 


THE  late  Mrs.  Chief  Justice  Lyon  had  been  a  notable 
manager.  She  had  looked  well  to  her  household,  utterly 
scorning  the  idea  of  entrusting  her  domestic  affairs  to  the 
hands  of  any  hired  housekeeper,  until  the  infirmities  of 


58  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

age  came  upon  her,  and  she  could  no  longer  rise  early  and 
sit  up  late,  or  go  up  and  down  stairs  a  dozen  times  a  day, 
us  she  had  been  accustomed  to  do. 

Then  she  advertised  for  a  housekeeper,  who  was  required 
to  be  the  nonpareil  of  matrons  and  managers,  and  to  furnish 
the  most  unquestionable  of  references. 

She  received,  in  reply,  just  thirty-three  letters  from  ap 
plicants  for  the  place.  Thirty-two  were  read,  and  cast  into 
the  waste  paper  basket,  without  even  the  honor  of  an 
answer. 

The  thirty-third  was  read  and  considered. 

It  came  from  a  highly  respectable  woman,  the  widow  of 
a  poor  Baptist  minister.  Her  age,  her  character,  her  com 
petency  and  her  references  were  all  unexceptionable — so 
much  so  that  old  Mrs.  Lyon  seemed  to  think  that  the 
Lord  had  created  the  Baptist  minister's  widow  for  the 
especial  purpose  of  providing  her  with  a  housekeeper. 

But  there  was  a  drawback. 

The  widow,  Mrs.  Sterling,  had  an  "  encumbrance,"  as  a 
child  is  cruelly  called — a  little  girl,  aged  six  years,  from 
whom  she  was  unwilling  to  part.  In  mentioning  this 
"  item,"  Mrs.  Sterling  had  said  that,  if  allowed  to  bring 
her  child,  she  would  consent  to  come  at  half  the  salary 
offered  by  Mrs.  Lyon. 

The  old  lady  pondered  over  the  letter.  She  was  very 
anxious  to  have  the  housekeeper,  but  she  did  not  want  the 
"  encumbrance." 

Finally,  as  she  could  not  come  to  any  decision  unaided,  she 
took  up  the  letter  and  waddled  off  to  the  old  judge's  "  stud}'," 
where  he  kept  his  law  books  and  documents,  and  where  he 
read  the  newspapers,  and  smoked  or  dozed  the  greater  part 
of  the  day,  but  where  he  never  "  studied  "  for  an  hour. 

She  sat  down  and  read  the  letter  to  him,  and  then  said : 

"  You  see  she  is  just  exactly  the  sort  of  woman  that  I 
want — and  a  clergyman's  widow,  too — so  respectable.  If  I 


A    CHILD'S    LOVE.  59 

were  to  advertise,  and  keep  on  advertising  for  a  year,  I 
might  not  meet  with  another  so  suitable." 

"  Well,  then,  engage  her  at  once,"  said  the  Chief  Justice 
with  more  promptness  of  decision  than  he  had  often  brought 
to  bear  upon  his  law  cases. 

"  Yes,  but  there's  a  difficulty." 

"  In  what  ?  Doesn't  she  like  the  terms  ? — Give  her  her 
own  ;  you  can  afford  it,  if  she  suits  you." 

"  She  likes  the  terms  well  enough.  Don't  you  see  she 
offers  to  come  at  half  what  I  give,  if  permitted  to  bring 
her  child." 

"  Then  where  on  earth  is  the  difficulty  ?     I  don't  see  it." 

"  Why,  about  the  child,  Judge." 

"  Oh,  the  little  girl.  Well,  let  the  woman  bring  her 
child  ;  what  possible  objection  can  there  be  to  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  she  would  be  an  encumbrance." 

"  On  whom,  I  would  like  to  know  ?  Not  on  jjou,  not  on 
me,  and  certainly  not  on  her  mother.  Nonsense,  my  dear, 
let  the  child  come ;  never  make  a  difficulty  about  that." 

"  But  children  are  so  troublesome — " 

"Especially  when  they  are  not  our  own.  Tut,  tut,  if 
you  don't  want  the  woman,  don't  take  her ;  but  if  you  do 
want  her,  take  her,  and  let  her  bring  her  little  one.  Bless 
my  soul  alive,  haven't  we  got  five  or  six  dogs,  and  seven  or 
eight  cats,  and  half  a  score  of  birds  ?  and  if  one  child  can 
make  a  hundredth  part  of  the  noise  that  they  do,  I'm 
greatly  mistaken." 

"  Yes,  but  children  are  not  like  them ;  children  are 
always  eating  cake,  or  sucking  toffy,  and  toddling  about 
with  nasty,  sticky  hands,  laying  hold  of  your  skirts — " 

"  My  dear,  don't  say  mine  ;  I  don't  wear  any.  Nonsense, 
Sukey,  take  the  woman  and  risk  the  child.  Or  stay — I  see 
light  at  last.  Take  her  on  trial  with  the  child,  and  then, 
if  it  should  prove  a  nuisance,  get  rid  of  it,  or  of  both." 

"  That's  just  what  I  can  do.     Thank  you,  Judge,  you 


60  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

were  always  a  wise  counsellor,"  said  Mrs.  Lyon,  turning  to 
leave  the  room." 

"  Don't  know.  But  hark-ye,  Sukey,  my  dear.  ~No  cut 
ting  down  of  the  poor  woman's  salary  on  account  of  her 
'  encumbrance/  That  is  a  reason  for  raising  it,  not  for  re 
ducing  it,"  called  the  judge  after  his  retreating  wife. 

"  Oh,  I  never  intended  to  give  her  less  than  full  pay," 
replied  Mrs.  Lyon,  as  she  went  to  her  room  to  answer  her 
letter. 

The  result  was  the  engagement  of  Mrs.  Sterling,  with 
her  "  encumbrance." 

The  widow  and  her  child  arrived  one  cold  day  in 
December,  soon  after  the  family  were  settled  in  their  town 
house  for  the  winter.  She  was  the  least  in  the  world  like 
the  "  poor  widow  "  of  poetry  and  fiction. 

She  was  a  little,  wiry,  muscular  looking  body,  with  no 
encumbrance  of  flesh,  whatever  she  might  have  of  family, 
for  she  was  rather  thin  in  form  and  face.  She  had  a  high 
color,  black  hair  and  black  eyes.  She  was  cheerful,  active 
and  enterprising.  She  wore  no  widow's  weeds,  because,  she 
explained,  it  had  been  three  years  since  she  had  lost  her 
husband,  and  black  was  a  bore,  always  catching  dirt  and 
showing  all  it  caught,  and  making  everybody  gloomy.  She 
wore  serviceable  browns  and  grays,  or  dark  crimsons. 

She  entered  upon  her  duties  with  great  energy,  and  soon 
had  the  house  in  perfect  order,  and  the  domestic  machinery 
moving  like  magic.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  she  gave 
great  satisfaction  to  her  employers. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  I  ever  got  along  without  her.  I 
know  I  could  not  now,"  said  Mrs.  Lyon,  adding,  "  I 
would  rather  have  her,  even  with  two  children  instead  of 
one,  than  -any  body  else  without  any.  And  indeed  the 
child  is  not  a  nuisance,  after  all." 

No,  the  child  was  not  a  nuisance.  And  neither  did  she 
bear  the  slightest  resemblance  to  her  mother.  She  was  a 


A    CHILD'S    LOVE.  61 

delicate  little  creature,  with  a  pure,  pale  face ;  large,  soft, 
gray  eyes,  and  bright,  silky,  brown  hair.  She  was  very 
quiet,  thoughtful  and  industrious  for  such  a  mere  infant. 
Her  mother  ruled  her  with  the  same  rigid  discipline  with 
which  she  governed  ail  the  servants  of  the  household  com 
mitted  to  her  charge. 

The  little  one  was  never  allowed  to  go  out  of  doors  ex 
cept  on  Sunday,  when  she  was  taken  by  her  mother  to 
church,  or  sent  by  herself  to  Sunday-school.  On  all  other 
days  she  was  confined  strictly  to  the  housekeeper's  room, 
where,  after  learning  one  lesson,  doing  one  sum,  and  writing 
one  copy,  she  was  kept  stitching  patch-work  quilts  from 
morning  till  night. 

The  Chief  Justice,  who  was  an  awful  myth  to  the  little 
girl,  had  never  once  set  eyes  on  her. 

But  old  Mrs.  Lyon,  coming  occasionally  to  the  house 
keeper's  room  to  give  some  orders,  would  see  the  demure 
little  creature  sitting  on  her  low  stool  in  the  corner  of  the 
hearth,  and  stitching  soberly  at  her  patch-work,  and  she 
would  say  to  the  mother: 

"  Mrs.  Sterling,  why  don't  you  let  that  child  run  out  into 
the  garden  and  play  in  this  fine,  clear,  frosty  weather  ? 
The  air  would  do  her  good." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  madam.  You  see  how  delicate  she 
is  ;  she  might  take  cold.'7 

tc  Delicate,  and  no  wonder,  Mrs.  Sterling ;  kept  mewed 
up  in  this  close  room  at  needle-work  all  the  time,  as  if  she 
was  sewing  for  her  living — a  babe  of  six  years  old  !  If  you 
are  afraid  to  let  her  go  into  the  garden,  let  her  run  about 
the  house  ;  don't  keep  her  here  always.'7 

"  Thank  you,  madam  ;  but  I  cannot  let  her  do  so.  She 
might  grow  troublesome  ;  and,  besides,  she  will  have  to 
sew  for  a  living  some  day  or  other  if  she  doesn't  do  it  now. 
She  can't  have  me  always  to  look  to ;  she  will  have  to  take 
care  of  herself,  and  so  she  must  learn  to  be  patient  and 
industrious  by  times." 


62  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Poor  little  thing/'  murmured  the  old  lady. 

"Don't  pity  her,  if  you  please,  madam,  or  put  into  her 
head  that  she  is  ill-used,  for  she  isn't.  I  do  everything  for 
her  good,  and  it's  not  likely  that  I  would  do  any  thing  else, 
for  I  am  her  own  mother/'  said  the  housekeeper,  respectfully 
but  firmly. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  know  what  is  for  her  good,  and  if 
you  are  her  own  mother  you  treat  her  worse  than  any  step 
mother  would,"  the  old  lady  thought  and  would  have  said, 
only  that  she  was  a  little  afraid  of  Mrs.  Sterling. 

"  She  isn't  the  least  like  you.  Who  is  she  like  ?  "  in 
quired  Miss  Lyon. 

"  Her  father.  See,  here  is  his  miniature,"  said  the 
widow,  drawing  from  her  pocket  a  morocco  case,  and  hand 
ing  it  to  the  old  lady. 

"  Yes,  she  is  like  her  father.  What  a  very  interesting 
face  he  has.  Has  he  been  dead  long  ?  " 

"Three  years  last  March;  he  died  of  consumption.  I 
suppose  she  will  go  the  same  way,"  said  the  widow,  indicat 
ing  her  child. 

"  You  should  not  let  her  hear  you  say  so  ;  if  she  gets  the 
impression  that  she  is  to  die  of  consumption  because  her 
father  did  she  will  probably  do  so,"  whispered  Mrs.  Lyon. 
Then  aloud  she  spoke  this  truth  :  "  Nobody  need  die  of 
consumption  or  of  anything  else  except  old  age,  unless  they 
have  a  mind  to.  Plenty  of  good  food  and  proper  clothing, 
and  out-door  exercise  will  prevent  consumption." 

And  with  a  parting  glance  of  pity  at  the  pale  child,  the 
old  lady  left  the  room. 

"  You  mustn't  mind  what  Mrs.  Lyon  says  ;  she  is  not 
like  us.  She  is  a  great  lady,  and  thinks  of  nothing  but 
taking  her  ease  and  indulging  herself,  and  she  fancies  that 
we  can  do  the  same  ;  but  you  know  we  can't,"  said  the 
widow,  applying  the  antidote  to  what  she  consideied  the 
poison  that  had  been  dropped  into  the  child's  mind.  "  We 


LOVE.  63 

must  deny  ourselves,  and  bear  our  burden,  and  after  all  it 
is  easy  enough  to  do." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  mite  in  the  corner,  repeating  her  Sunday 
school  Scripture  text,  for  our  Saviour  said,  (  Whosoever  will 
come  after  me  let  him  deny  himself,  take  up  his  cross  and 
follow  me/  " 

"  Yes,  and  if  you  don't  do  it  you  know  you  will  be  eter 
nally  lost,"  said  the  clergyman's  widow. 

"  Oh,  but  our  Saviour  will  never  let  me  be  lost,  no  never ; 
I  know  that  much." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  If  you  disobey  him  you  will 
be  lost." 

"  Oh,  no  !  He  will  not  let  me  be — no,  never,  not  even  if 
1  was  to  steal  away  from  my  work  and  go  and  play  in  the 
garden.  He  would  forgive  me  like  he  did  Peter  ;  and  then 
I  should  feel  sorry,  and  cry,  and  then  he  would  make  it  all 
right  again,"  said  the  quaint  little  infant  Theologian  with 
an  air  of  positive  conviction. 

"  Child  !  where  did  you  learn  such  bad  -doctrines  ?  Not 
at  Sunday  school,  I  know,"  said  the  widow,  in  dismay." 

"  Yes,  I  did,  in  the  Sunday  school,  in  the  Bible  texts, 
and  they  are  good.  Our  Saviour  was  good  and  all  that  he 
did  was  good.  Don't  lie  say  that  he  was  sent  to  seek  and 
to  save  them  that  were  lost  ?  And  I  know  he  will  never 
let  me  be  lost,  no  nor  the  old  lady  neither,  even  if  she  does 
take  her  ease,  because  she  is  so  good-hearted." 

"  Miss  !  don't  you  know  it  is  wrong  to  contradict  your 
mother  ?  And  you  have  contradicted  me  several  times." 

"  Yes,  I  know — but — I  must  say  what  is  true  about  Our 
Saviour  when  we  talk  of  him." 

"  Well,  you  shall  sew  one  hour  longer  this  evening,  as  a 
punishment  for  your  disrespect  to  me." 

"  Well,  mamma,  I  will  sew  all  day  and  all  night,  if  that 
will  do  you  any  good,  so  you  will  let  me  say  what  is  true 
about  Our  Saviour.  Sewing  is  easy  enough,  the  dear  knows 


64  THE     'CHANGED     BRIDES. 

— easier  than  being  scourged  and  stoned,  and  all  that,  like 
some  of  his  poor  friends  were  for  his  sake,"  said  the  child, 
as  she  carefully  fitted  the  little  squares  of  her  patchwork 
together. 

"  Only  six  years  old  and  to  talk  like  that!  She  is  one 
of  the  children  who  are  doomed  to  die  early,"  thought  Mrs. 
Sterling. 

And  indeed  any  one  looking  at  that  child,  with  her  deli 
cate  frame,  large  brain  and  active  intellect,  must  have  come 
to  the  same  conclusion.  But  they  would  every  one  have 
been  mistaken.  There  was  a  wonderful  vitality  and  power 
of  endurance  in  that  little  slight  nervous  frame.  No  one 
is  faultless.  And  if  this  little  atom  had  a  fault,  it  was  that 
of  being  just  a  "wee  bit"  self-opinionated.  She  was  a  very 
promising  pupil  in  a  very  orthodox  Sunday  school ;  yet 
from  the  very  texts  they  had  taught  her  she  had  received 
impressions  that  the  teachers  certainly  never  had  intended 
to  give  her,  and  these  impressions  had  become  convictions 
in  defence  of  which  she  was  willing  at  six  years  to  suffer 
the  baby  martyrdom  of — "  sewing  all  day  and  all  night." 

Meanwhile  the  Christmas  Holidays  were  approaching, 
and  the  young  son  of  the  house  was  coming  home  to  spend 
them.  And  his  uncle  and  cousin  were  invited  to  meet  him. 
Great  preparations  were  made  to  entertain  the  party.  Old 
Mrs.  Lyon's  visits  to  the  housekeeper's  room  became  more 
and  more  frequent  as  the  time  for  the  arrival  of  the  visit 
ors  drew  near. 

And  whenever  the  old  lady  came,  she  inevitably  found 
the  quiet  child  sitting  on  her  stool  in  the  corner  of  the 
hearth  sewing  for  dear  life. 

But  old  Mrs.  Lyon  took  no  farther  notice  of  the  infant. 
Partly  because  she  was  too  full  of  her  own  affairs  and  partly 
because  she  was  displeased  by  the  houskeeper's  disregard  of 
her  advice. 

But  the  demure  child,  listening  to  every  word  that  passed, 


A    CHILD'S    LOV  E.  65 

with  the  interest  only  a  recluse  could  feel,  heard  a  great 
deal  about  "  Mr.  Alexander."  Whoever  else  might  be 
coming,  it  was  for  this  darling  only  son  that  his  mother 
planned.  It  was  of  his  comfort  and  pleasure  only  that  she 
thought  and  talked. 

And  the  little  listening  child  grew  to  look  upon  "  Mr. 
Alexander  "  as  some  young  king  of  Israel — some  splendid 
and  magnificent  Saul,  or  Solomon,  who  was  to  be  the  glory 
of  the  house.  And  because  hero-worshipping  was  a  neces 
sity  of  her  deep,  earnest,  reverent  soul,  she  began  to  wor 
ship  him. 

At  length,  two  or  three  days  before  Christmas,  the 
expected  visitors  began  to  arrive. 

First  came  General  Lyon,  the  fine,  martial-looking  old 
man  with  his  commanding  form  and  snow-white  hair  and 
beard  ;  and  his  grand-daughter,  the  beautiful  Anna  Lyon, 
then  a  fair,  blooming,  blue-eyed  and  golden-haired  hoyden 
of  twelve  years  of  age  ;  both  attended  by  their  servants. 
And  next  came  Mr.  Alexander,  then  a  rollicking  young 
man  of  eighteen. 

The  whole  party  was  assembled  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  Mrs.  Sterling  happened  to  be  with  them  when  Mr.  Al 
exander  was  announced  and  entered,  in  a  great  noisy  bustle 
of  joy. 

He  shook  hands  heartily  with  his  father  and  then  with 
his  uncle ;  and  he  embraced  his  mother  and  his  cousin,  and 
then,  before  he  knewr  what  he  was  about,  he  threw  his  arms 
around  the  housekeeper  and  hugged  and  kissed  her. 

"  Oh,  see  here  !  you  know  I  didn't  mean  it,  I  didn't  in 
deed,  ma'am  ;  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons  !  but  I  am  so 
much  in  the  habit  of  kissing  everybody  I  meet  here  that — 
that — I  kissed  you  by  mistake.  But  if  you  don't  mind  it,  1 
don't ;  or  if  you  feel  aggrieved,  why,  you  may  kiss  and  hug 
me,  and  that  will  make  it  all  square  between  us,"  laughed 
the  boy,  when  he  discovered  his  error. 
4 


66  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

The  clergyman's  widow  curtsied  very  stiffly  without  mov 
ing  a  muscle  of  her  face. 

"  This  is  Mrs.  Sterling,  who  manages  our  house,  Alick," 
said  his  mother,  gravely. 

"  Mrs.  Sterling,  I  am  very  happy  to  have  the  honor  of 
knowing  you,  and  I  am  persuaded  that  the  house  is  man 
aged  to  perfection,"  said  the  young  man,  bowing. 

The  widow  curtsied  more  stiffly  than  before,  and  then 
withdrew  from  the  room. 

"  I  say,  Anna,  I  wouldn't  kiss  her  again  for  the  best 
hunter  in  your  father's  stables  ;  my  lips  got  frost-bitten  by 
that  first  encounter,"  whispered  the  young  man,  with  a 
smile,  to  his  cousin. 

"  Served  you  right,  Alick.  You  should  look  before  you 
leap,"  laughed  Anna. 

"  That  mightn't  always  prevent  my  leaping,  especially  if 
the  feat  seemed  a  dangerous  one,  though  it  would  have  done 
so  in  this  case,  I  admit." 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  another  guest — 
an  uninvited  and  unexpected,  if  not  an  unwelcome  one. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  servant,  who  grimly  an 
nounced  : 

"Mr.  Richard  Hammond." 

And  "Poor  Dick,"  the  .black  sheep  of  the  flock,  entered 
the  room,  looking  rather  sheepish,  it  must  be  confessed. 

And  yet  he  was  a  very  handsome  and  gentlemanly  youth, 
tall,  slender,  with  a  fine  Grecian  profile,  with  a  clear  brown 
complexion,  black  curling  hair  and  dark  changing  eyes — 
with  a  frank  countenance  and  an  engaging  smile  that  few, 
or  none,  could  resist. 

But  well  he  might  look  sheepish,  poor  outlawed  fellow, 
for  his  entrance  cast  an  instantaneous  chill  over  the  family 
circle. 

General  Lyon  drew  himself  up  haughtily.  The  chief 
justice  looked  grave,  his  wife  sad,  and  their  son  angry. 


A   CHILD'S    LOVE.  67 

Only  Anna  seemed  pleased.  And  not  only  pleased,  but 
delighted.  For  the  instant  she  saw  him  she  bounced  up, 
overturning  two  or  three  chairs  in  her  hurry  and  rushed  to 
meet  him,  exclaiming : 

"  Cousin  Dick  !  Oh,  dear  Cousin  Dick,  I  am  so  glad 
you've  come  !  It  would  have  been  such  a  dull  Christmas, 
indeed  no  Christmas  at  all,  without  you  !  " 

And  she  gave  him  both  her  hands  and  pressed  and  shook 
his,  and  drew  him  towards  the  group,  and  first  instinctively 
presented  him  to  the  kind-hearted  old  lady  : 

"  Aunt  Lyon,  here  is  Cousin  Dick.  Are  you  not  very 
glad  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  do,  Richard  ?  "  said  the  old  lady,  offering 
her  hand. 

And  the  black  sheep  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

"  Uncle,  here's  Dick.  Isn't  it  a  pleasant  surprise  ? " 
asked  Anna. 

And  uncle  had  to  come  and  shake  the  scape-grace  by  the 
hand. 

"  Grandpa,  look  here  ;  you  don't  see  Dick.  Here's  Dick 
waiting  to  speak  to  you !  "  she  persisted. 

And  General  Lyon  had  to  turn  and  meet  the  engaging 
smile  of  the  handsome  boy. 

"Alick,"  said  Anna,  in  a  low  whisper,  giving  her 
betrothed  a  sharp  dig  in  the  ribs  with  her  elbow,  and  a 
very  vicious  look  from  her  angry  blue  eyes,  "  if  you  don't 
stop  glowering,  and  come  and  speak  to  Dick,  I'll  never 
speak  to  you  again." 

"  Anything  to  keep  peace  in  the  family,"  laughed  Mr. 
Alexander,  as  he  cleared  up  his  brow,  and  went  and 
welcomed  the  new-comer. 

And  in  two  minutes  more  Dick  was  seated  in  the  circle 
around  the  fire,  the  life  of  the  little  company,  talking  and 
laughing,  telling  jokes  and  singing  songs,  and  keeping 
everybody  pleased  and  amused,  so  that  they  forgot  they  did 


68  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

not  want  him,  and  almost  fancied  that  they  could  not  do 
without  him. 

There  was  nothing  very  wrong  about  Dick  Hammond. 
It  is  true  that  he  was  a  very  unpromising  law  student, 
being  rather  idle  and  extravagant — fonder  of  play  than  of 
work,  and  loving  his  "  friends  "  better  than  himself.  You 
know  the  sort  of  man — one  of  that  sort  of  whom  it  is 
always  said  that  he  is  "  nobody's  enemy  but  his  own." 

Dick  had  a  neat  little  patrimony,  but  his  relations  said 
that  he  was  in  a  fair  way  of  making  "  ducks  and  drakes  " 
of  it,  and  they  discountenanced  and  disapproved  of  him 
accordingly. 

His  one  fast  friend  was  his  cousin  Anna,  and  every  year 
she  was  growing  to  be  a  stronger  and  more  important  one. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  night,  Mr.  Richard  Hammond  made 
a  motion  to  go,  but  the  chief  justice  said  : 

"  Stay  all  night,  Dick."     And  old  Mrs.  Lyon  added  : 

"  Stay  and  spend  the  Christmas  holidays  with  us,  Dick." 

So  Mr.  Richard  stayed,  and  sent  for  his  portmanteau  from 
the  hotel  where  he  had  stopped  on  his  first  coming  to  the 
city. 

And  having  the  freedom  of  the  house,  he  took  more  lib 
erties  in  it  than  any  one  else  would  dare  to  do — going  into 
any  part  of  it,  and  at  any  hour  he  pleased  ;  popping  in  and 
out  of  the  chief  justice's  secluded  study,  and  breaking  up 
his  naps ;  popping  in  and  out  of  the  old  lady's  sacred 
dressing-room,  and  startling  her  in  the  midst  of  the  myste 
rious  rites  of  the  toilet ;  and  bouncing  in  and  out  of  the 
housekeeper's  room,  the  pantry  or  the  kitchen,  to  the  seri 
ous  discomfiture  of  the  manager,  the  butler  and  the  cook. 

Yet  everybody  foved  Dick,  so  long  as  the  influence  of  his 
frank  manners,  sunny  smile,  and  sweet  voice  was  upon 
them.  But  when  that  was  withdrawn,  and  they  were  left 
to  their  sober  reason,  they  strongly  disapproved  of  him. 

"  Little  pitchers  have  long  ears  and  wide  mouths,"  says 


LOVE.  G9 

the  proverb.  And  the  little  pitcher  in  Mrs.  Sterling's  pri 
vate  apartment  was  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  Sit 
ting  stitching  at  her  patchwork,  she  often  heard  Mr.  Rich 
ard's  shortcomings  discussed,  and  she  pitied  him,  for  she 
thought  that  he  had  wandered  away  very  far  from  the  fold, 
and  was  in  a  very  bad  way  indeed. 

One  day  when  poor  Dick  popped  into  the  housekeeper's 
room,  to  ask  for  some  brandy  and  salt  to  dip  the  wick  of  his 
candles  in,  to  make  "  corpse  lights  "  for  ghosts  to  carry,  and 
scare  the  maids  with,  he  found  no  one  there  but  the  child, 
sitting  in  the  corner  and  stitching  patchwork  as  usual. 

She  looked  up  at  him  solemnly,  and  nearly  annihilated 
him  with  the  following  appalling  question.: 

"  Young  man,  are  you  one  of  the  lost  sheep  of  the  House 
of  Israel  ?  " 

"  EH  ?  "  exclaimed  Dick,  starting. 

"  I  ask  you,  are  you  a  lost  sheep  ?  They  say  you  are  a, 
black  sheep,  and  I  believe  it  is  the  black  sheep  that  go 
astray,"  she  said,  gravely,  and  folding  her  hands  and  con 
templating  him. 

Dick  burst  out  laughing,  but  when  he  recovered  himself 
he  answered  very  gravely  : 

11  Indeed,  I  fear  I  am  a  lost  sheep,  little  girl." 

"  Well,  that  is  bad,  but  don't  be  frightened.  Our  Saviour 
knows  where  you  are,  and  He  will  be  sure  to  find  you,  and 
fetch  you  into  the  fold.  Because,  you  know,  He  came  to 
seek  and  to  save  those  that  are  lost.  And  what  he  came  to 
do  He  will  do,  and  nothing  in  this  world  can  prevent  him." 

"  I'll  be  shot  if  that  isn't  an  encouraging  doctrine  if  it  is 
a  true  one,  little  girl.  I  sometimes  wish  somebody  ivould 
find  me  and  fetch  me  into  a  place  of  safety  ;  but  I  fear  I 
shouldn't  be  worth  keeping  when  found,  for  I  am  a  sad,  fool 
ish,  naughty  sheep,  child,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  self- 
mocking  laugh. 

"  Never  mind,  don't  make  game  of  yourself.     If  our  Sav- 


70  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

iour  thinks  you  worth  looking  for  you  are  too  good  to  be 
laughed  at ;  and  when  He  does  find  you  and  fetch  you  into 
the  fold,  He  will  make  as  good  a  sheep  of  you  as — as — as — " 
The  child  seemed  at  a  loss  for  a  comparison,  until  her  face 
suddenly  lighted  up,  and  she  said :  "  As  Mr.  Alexander 
himself!" 

"As  Mr.  Alexander  himself!  Oh,  my  eye  !  catch  me, 
somebody  !  Only  there's  nobody  to  do  it !  "  said  Dick, 
rolling  up  against  the  wall  and  holding  his  sides. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  Have  you  got  the  stomach-ache  ? 
There's  some  rum  and  molasses  in  the  cupboard,"  said  the 
child. 

"No,  oh  no  !  "  cried  Dick,  bursting  into  vociferous  laugh 
ter.  "  You  are  the  solenmest  little  quiz  !  To  hold  up  Mr. 
Alexander  as  a  model  for  me  !  Well  !  I'm  bad  enough, 
goodness  knows,  but —  !  Why,  little  one,  Mr.  Alexander 
isn't  a  sheep  at  all,  either  good  or  bad  !  He's  a  goat,  a  rank 
black  goat,  and  never  has  been  in  the  fold,  and  never  would 
be  let  into  it !  " 

"  Sir,  it  is  very  wrong  in  you  to  speak  ill  of  a  gentleman 
so  in  his  absence,"  gravely  asserted  the  little  monitor. 

"So  it  is;  you  are  right  there,  little  girl,"  admitted  the 
scapegrace. 

And  the  timely  entrance  of  Mrs.  Sterling  put  an  end  to 
this  strange  interview,  and  possibly  saved  the  young  man  a 
serious  lecture  from  the  little  child. 

Dick  got  his  candles,  brandy  and  salt,  and  whatever  else 
he  wanted  of  the  houskeeper ;  for  that  strong-minded 
woman,  no  more  than  her  weaker  sisters  and  brethren, 
could  resist  Dick's  irresistible  smile." 


THE      CHILD      MEETS      HER     FATE. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  CHILD  MEETS  HER  FATE. 

"The  BUU  himself  is  coming  up  this  way." 

THAT  night  "  a  most  horrid  spectre,"  wrapped  in  a  long 
winding  sheet,  and  bearing  a  corpse  candle  that  cast  a 
cadaverous  color  over  his  countenance,  stalked  through  the 
lower  regions  of  the  house,  frightening  the  maids,  and  the 
men  too,  for  that  matter,  from  their  propriety,  and  raising 
such  a  row  in  the  dignified  residence  of  the  chief  justice  as 
might  have  brought  the  police  down  upon  any  house  of  a 
less  assured  standing. 

And  upon  an  investigation  of  the  matter  next  morning, 
Mr.  Richard  was  discovered  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  the 
business. 

And  the  quiet  little  girl  in  the  housekeeper's  room  heard 
again  of  his  delinquencies  and  pitied  him  and  wished  that 
he  was  more  like  Mr.  Alexander,  that  splendid  paragon  of 
youth  whom  his  mother  was  always  praising.  The  child, 
closely  confined  to  her  mother's  chamber,  had  never  seen 
the  hero  of  her  admiration.  But  the  hour  was  near  at 
hand  when  she  was  to  meet  him  in  an  interview  destined 
to  determine  the  whole  course  of  her  future  life. 

It  was  on  Christmas  Eve.  All  the  preparations  for  the 
Christmas  festival  were  made.  The  turkeys  were  already 
killed  and  dressed  for  the  roaster ;  the  hams  were  in  soak  ; 
the  plum  pudding  was  mixed  ;  the  pies  and  cakes  baked  ; 
and  all  the  materials  for  the  egg-nogg  and  apple-toddy  laid 
out  on  the  pantry  table  ;  and  the  notable  housekeeper 
might  have  taken  her  ease  but  for  one  thing. 

There  was  to  be  a  pantomime  at  the  city  theatres  that 
evening.  And  the  three  young  people  were  to  go.  And 


72  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

as  there  were  no  reserved  seats,  they  were  to  go  very  early 
in  order  to  secure  good  places,  for  it  was  foreseen  that  the 
house  would  be  very  much  crowded.  And  thus  dinner  was 
ordered  two  hours  earlier  than  usual,  so  that  they  might 
get  off  in  time. 

Mrs.  Sterling,  having  finished  her  morning's  work,  was 
putting  off  her  working  gown  of  brown  alpacca  to  put  on  a 
nice  dress  of  black  silk  in  honor  of  Christmas  Eve,'  when 
old  Mrs.  Lyon  came  in  to  give  the  instructions  about  the 
dinner,  and  having  given  them,  immediately  left  the  room. 

The  housekeeper  was  in  no  plight  to  go  all  the  way  down 
to  the  kitchen,  so  she  sent  the  child  to  tell  the  cook  to  come 
up  to  her  for  orders. 

The  little  one  went  and  delivered  her  message  faithfully ; 
and  was  returning  to  her  mother's  room,  when,  in  passing 
through  the  back  hall,  she  suddenly  met  the  god  of  her  in 
fant  idolatry  face  to  face.  She  knew  him  at  once,  either  by 
instinct  or  because  there  was  no  other  young  man  beside 
Mr.  Richard  (whom  she  knew  by  sight)  in  the  house.  She 
backed  up  into  a  corner  to  let  him  pass. 

"  Heyday  !  Who  have  we  here  ?  A  child  in  the  house  ? 
I  haven't  seen  such  a  thing  here  for  years  !  Or  are  you  a 
fairy  changling?  "  inquired  Mr.  Alexander,  in  surprise. 

The  child  did  not  reply,  but — I  am  sorry  to  say — put  her 
finger  in  her  mouth,  dropped  her  chin  and  rolled  up  her 
eyes  in  a  shy  glance  at  the  splendid  youth. 

"Ah  bah!  that's  very  nasty!  Don't  stick  your  finger 
in  your  mouth  and  stare,  but  hold  up  your  head  and  answer 
when  you  are  spoken  to.  Tell  me  who  you  are,  little  girl !  " 
said  Mr.  Alexander. 

Prince  Solomon  had  condescended  to  issue  orders  and 
they  were  immediately  obeyed  by  his  loyal  subject.  Down 
went  the  little  finger ;  up  went  the  little  face,  and  she 
answered  : 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Sterling's  little  girl." 


THE      CHILD      MEETS      HER      FATE.          73 

"  And  a  very  nice  little  girl,  too,  to  do  as  you  are  bid. 
Always  do  so,  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes  sir." 

"  And  so  you  are  the  housekeeper's  daughter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  is  it  that  I  haven't  seen  anything  of  you  be 
fore  ?  " 

"  Because  mother  never  lets  me  go  out  of  her  room." 

"  Never  lets  you  go  out  of  her  room  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"Because  she  is  afraid  that  the "     Here  the  child 

lowered  her  voice  to  a   tone    of  mysterious    awe — "  chief 
justice  would  be  angry  if  he  saw  me  about." 

"  Bosh  about  his  being  angry !  He  is  not  a  King 
Herod  to  hate  the  sight  of  a  child,  or  desire  the  death  of 
the  innocents.  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are 
cooped  up  in  the  housekeeper's  room  all  the  time  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  I  am  not  cooped  up  anywhere  any  of  the 
time  ;  only  the  poultry  for  Christmas  was  cooped  up,  and 
that  was  in  the  back  yard;  I  .saw  them  through  the 
window.  But  I  sit  on  a  nice  little  stool  in  mother's  room 
and  sew  pretty  quilt  pieces." 

"All  daylong?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  every  day  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,  not  every  day.  I  go  to  Sunday  school  on 
Sundays." 

((  But  on  all  other  days  you  are  kept  confined  to  that 
room  all  day  long  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  you  look  just  as  if  you  were,  you  poor  little  pale 
thing,  and  that  is  the  truth.  It  is  horrid.  I'll  speak  to 
my  mother  about  it.  Why,  you  ought  to  be  romping  all 
over  the  house,  you  know,  and  going  to  pantomimes  o' 


74  THE      CHANGED     BK1DES. 

Christmas,  like  other  children.  Say,  little  a — a — What  is 
your  name  ?  " 

"  Anna  Drusilla  Sterling,  sir,"  said  the  child,  beginning 
to  grow  restive  under  all  this  questioning,  and  to  swing 
her  shoulders  from  side  to  side,  after  the  manner  of  some 
children  when  sajTing  their  lessons. 

"  There — don't  do  that ;  it's  ugly,"  said  Mr.  Alexander. 

And  the  swinging  instantly  ceased. 

"  '  Anna  Drusilla  Sterling  ? '  Well,  I  have  one  Anna 
already,  so  I  shall  call  you  Drusilla,"  said  the  young  man. 

"  But  my  mother  calls  me  Anny." 

"Never  mind  what  your  mother  calls  you — I  shall  call 
you  Drusilla.  Well,  little  Drusilla,  wouldn't  you  like  to  go 
to  the  pantomime  with  us  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.     Please,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  something  got  up  to  amuse  little  children  like 
you,  though  big  children  like  mj^self  find  it  equally  divert 
ing.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go?  I  should  like  to  take 
you,  and  to  see  it  through  j^our  great  staring  eyes,  as  well 
as  through  my  own.  It  would  be  a  'new  sensation.' 
Come,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  sir.     Is  it  pretty  ?  " 

«  Beautiful  I  " 

"  And  good  !  " 

"  It  is  heavenly  !  " 

"  Then  I  think  I  should  like  to  go,  sir,  if  mother  will  let 
me." 

"  Oh,  she  will  let  you  fast  enough,  for  I  shall  make  a 
point  of  it." 

"  What  did  you  call  it,  sir,  please  ?  " 

"  A  pantomime." 

"  Oh,  I  know  now,"  said  the  child,  with  a  sudden  look  of 
bright  intelligence  ;  "it  is  something  about  Moses  and  the 
children  of  Israel,  isn't  it,  sir  ?  " 

"  Eh  ?  '  Moses  and  the  children  of  Israel  ?  '  What  put 
that  into  your  little  noddle  ?  "  laughed  the  young  man. 


T  i-1  E      CHILD     MEETS     HER     FATE.          75 

"  Why,  sir,  you  know  the  hooks  of  Moses  are  called  the 
panta — panta — something ;  it's  a  very  hard  word,  sir." 

"  Oh,  you  are  talking  of  the  pentateuch  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  a  very  hard  word.  I  always  miss  it  at  the 
class,  it  is  so  very  hard." 

"Very,"  laughed  the  young  man. 

And  now,  as  the  voice  of  the  housekeeper  was  heard  call 
ing  her  child,  the  little  girl  made  her  Sunday  school  curtsey, 
and  ran  away  from  her  new  friend  to  join  her  mother. 

Mr.  Alexander  gazed  after  her  as  he  might  if  she  had 
been  sixteen  instead  of  six,  for  he  was  fond  of  children,  as 
well  as  of  kittens  and  puppies,  and  all  small  creatures. 
They  amused  him.  He  was  now  determined  that  this 
quaint  little  child  should  go  to  the  pantomime  with  himself 
and  his  friends,  for  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  to  watch 
her,  and  witness  her  wonder  and  delight,  would  be  as 
diverting  as  to  see  the  play  itself — it  would,  in  that  way 
double  his  own  entertainment. 

Mr.  Aleck  was  benevolent,  but  not  very  scrupulous,  I 
regret  to  confess.  So,  when  he  went  to  the  housekeeper's 
room  to  ask  leave  to  take  the  child  to  the  pantomime,  judg 
ing  that  the  Baptist  preacher's  widow  would  set  her  face 
against  all  such  exhibitions,  he  took  a  hint  from  the  child's 
mistake,  and  was  so  unprincipled  as  to  persuade  that  pious 
matron  that  the  spectacle  in  question  was  a  historical  affair, 
illustrative  of  the  Israelites,  and  very  instructive  and  edify 
ing  toJkhe  youthful  mind.  And  so,  with  Mr.  Kichard  to 
back  him  he  talked  the  housekeeper  into  consenting  that 
her  child  should  accompany  them,  especially  as  Miss  Anna 
was  to  be  one  of  the  party.  And  Mrs.  Sterling  began  to 
dress  little  Drusilla — we  shall  call  the  child  by  her  second 
name,  for  the  same  reason  that  Mr.  Alexander  did,  to  dis 
tinguish  her  from  the  other  Anna. 

Immediately  after  dinner  the  young  party  set  out,  and 
reached  the  theatre  in  time  to  get  good  front  seats. 


To  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

The  pantomime  was  "  Jack  the  Giant  Killer."  But  as 
Mr.  Alexander  kept  little  Drusilla  beside  himself,  and  kept 
the  play  bill  in  his  own  hands,  he  found  it  easy  to  persuade 
the  simple  child  that  the  exhibition  was  of  "  David  and 
Goliath,"  Jack  was  David,  and  Jack's  first  giant  was  Go 
liath. 

And  the  child  was  exceedingly  edified,  as  well  as  highly 
entertained. 

Mr.  Alexander  found  it  "  as  good  as  a  play,"  and  much 
better  than  a  pantomime,  to  watch  her.  Her  credulity  was 
equal  to  her  delight,  and  both  were  unbounded.  But  she 
thought  it  was  not  exactly  like  the  Scripture  story,  after 
all. 

Mr.  Alexander  explained  to  her  that  they  could  not  make 
it  exactly  like,  because  things  were  so  different  now  to  what 
they  were  then. 

Little  Drusilla  accepted  the  explanation  in  full  faith,  say 
ing  in  her  solemn  way,  that  she  supposed  they  did  the  best 
they  could,  and  that  we  must  "  take  the  will  for  the  deed." 

The  pantomime  was  over  a  little  after  ten  o'clock,  and 
the  youthful  party  returned  home. 

Little  Drusilla,  restored  to  her  mother's  charge,  would 
have  rehearsed  for  her  benefit  all  the  great  spectacle  of 
"  David  and  Goliath,"  but  that  the  good  lady  told  her  that 
it  was  time  for  her  to  be  asleep,  and  made  her  go  immedi 
ately  to  bed. 

Notwithstanding  the  late  hour  at  which  the  young1  people 
had  retired  on  Christmas  Eve,  they  were  all  up  by  times  on 
Christmas  day.  All  was  lively  bustle  throughout  the 
house.  Everybody  had  Christmas  gifts,  at  which  each  pre 
tended  to  be  as  much  surprised  as  he  or  she  was  expected 
to  be. 

Miss  Anna  had  a  little  set  of  diamonds,  consisting  of 
ear-rings  and  brooch,  presented  by  her  grandfather ;  an 
ermine  tippet  and  muff  from  her  uncle ;  a  set  of  antique 


THE     CHILD     MEETS     HER     FATE.          77 

lace  from  her  aunt;  a  diamond  bracelet  from  her  betrothed  ; 
and  from  scape-grace  Dick  a  real  King  Charles  lap-dog, 
which  she  openly  preferred  to  all  her  other  presents,  because 
she  said  it  was  alive,  and  could  give  love  for  love. 

The  old  lady  had  a  new  patent  easy  chair,  a  new  pair  of 
gold  spectacles,  and  a  set  of  sables. 

And  the  gentlemen  of  the  party  were  overwhelmed  with 
embroidered  slippers,  smokiiig-caps,  dressing-gowns,  pen 
wipers,  and  so  forth. 

The  housekeeper  was  presented  with  a  new  brown  silk 
dress.  And  there  was  not  a  servant  in  the  house  but 
received  a  present. 

"  And  who  has  got  anything  for  little  Drusilla  ? " 
inquired  Mr.  Alexander. 

But  nobody  answered  him. 

"  Well,  I'm  dashed  !  Only  one  bit  of  a  baby  in  the 
house,  and  nobody  has  thought  of  her.  And  this  especially 
a  child's  festival,  because  it  celebrates  the  birth  of  the 
Divine  Child,  who  also  loved  little  children !  Say,  mother, 
the  shops  are  open  in  the  city  this  morning,  are  they  not  ?  " 
inquired  Mr.  Alexander. 

"  Until  ten  o'clock,  Alick ;  not  after,"  replied  the  old 
lady. 

"  All  right,  it  is  only  eight  now — plenty  of  time.  I'm 
off;  but  I'll  be  back  to  breakfast,"  said  Mr.  Alexander, 
darting  out  of  the  drawing-room,  seizing  his  hat  in  the  hall, 
and  rushing  from  the  house. 

"  Ah,  wrhat  a  kind  heart  has  this  child  of  our  old  age, 
John  I  "  said  the  old  lady,  turning  proudly  and  fondly  to 
her  husband. 

"  Yes — yes  ;  a  good  boy — a  good  boy,"  answered  the 
Chief  Justice. 

"  Ah,  Anna,  my  dear,  you  will  be  a  happy  woman  if  you 
live  long  enough,  for  you  will  have  a  good  husband,"  she 
continued,  turning  to  her  intended  daughter-in-law. 


78  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Anna  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  agree  with  me,  Anna." 

"  Oh  3*es  I  do,  Aunt  Lyon,  to  some  extent.  I  think 
Alick  is  really  very  kind  when  it  amuses  him  ;  but  I  don't 
think  he  would  be  kind  to  any  living  creature  when  it 
would  bore  him  to  be  so.  For  instance,  he  would  bring  me 
home  a  present,  and  be  really  delighted  with  my  delight  in 
it ;  but  he  wouldn't  give  up  a  skating  party  to  take  me  to 
a  wax-work  show  if  I  were  to  cry  myself  ill  from  disap 
pointment." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  you  have  had  a  tiff  with  him ;  that's  of 
no  consequence  at  all.  '  The  quarrel  of  lovers  is  the  re 
newal  of  love/  "  said  the  old  lady,  laughing  to  herself. 

But  Anna  had  had  no  tiff  with  her  betrothed,  and  her 
judgment  of  him  was  a  righteous  one. 

Mr.  Alick  soon  came  rushing  in  with  his  arms  full  of 
packages,  and  looking  like  a  rail-way  porter.  He  set  down 
three  large  ones  on  the  floor,  threw  himself  into  a  chair, 
and  exclaimed  : 

"  Now  then,  mother,  send  for  little  Drusilla.  It  will  be 
fun  to  watch  her  eyes  when  she  sees  these  things." 

Mrs.  Lyon  rang  the  bell,  and  sent  a  servant  to  fetch  the 
little  girl  to  the  drawing-room. 

The  child's  mother  being  in  a  particularly  good  humor 
since  receiving  the  new  brown  silk  dress,  made  no  objection, 
but  sent  her  along  in  charge  of  the  servant. 

Little  Drusilla  entered  the  drawing-room,  looking  very 
pretty  in  her  new  red  merino  frock,  which  suited  well  with 
her  dark  hair  and  dark  eyes,  and  clear,  pale  face. 

She  made  her  little  curtesy  at  the  door,  and  then  as  Mr. 
Alexander  held  out  his  arms  she  ran  straight  up  to  him. 

"Now,  then,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  taking  her  on 
his  knee,  while  the  mysterious  packages  lay  all  around  his 
feet,  "if  you  could  have  your  wish,  what  would  you  wish 
for?" 


THE      CHILD      MEETS      HER      FATE.          79 

"  Mother  says  it  is  foolish  and  wicked  to  wish  for  any 
thing,  because  if  it  is  for  our  good,  the  Lord  will  give  it  to 
us  whether  or  not." 

"  Well  but  suppose  you  were  so  foolish  and  wicked  as  to 
wish  for  anything,  what  would  it  be  ?  "  persisted  the  young 
man,  while  all  the  other  members  of  the  Christmas  party 
looked  on,  smilingly. 

The  child  pondered  gravely. 

"  Come — what  would  it  be  ?  " 

"  I  think  a  work-box/'  answered  the  child,  looking  up  at 
length. 

"  What !  not  a  doll-baby  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  would  rather  have  a  doll-baby,  but  I  thought 
it  would  be  too  wicked  to  wish  for  that,  because  it  is  use 
less,"  said  the  little  one. 

"Well,  look  here,  now!  First,  here's  the  doll-baby," 
said  Mr.  Alick,  unwrapping  one  of  the  parcels,  and  taking 
from  a  mass  of  tissue  paper  a  splendid  wax  doll,  with  rosy 
cheeks,  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair,  all  dressed  in  blue 
satin  and  white  lace. 

"  Oh-h-h  !  m-y-y  !  "  exclaimed  the  child,  in  breathless 
delight,  as  she  took  the  doll  and  held  it  up  before  her,  and 
gazed  at  it  with  ever-widening  eyes. 

Mr.  Alexander  laughed  and  squeezed  her,  he  so  much 
enjoyed  her  enjoyment,  and  the  whole  party  looked  on, 
amused  and  interested. 

"  Isn't  it  a  beauty  ?  "  asked  the  youth,  giving  the  child 
another  squeeze. 

"It  is  a  love !  it  is  a  darling!  it  is  as  pretty  as — as — as 
Miss  Anna  !  "  she  exclaimed,  turning  her  eyes  from  the 
golden-haired  doll  to  the  golden-haired  girl. 

"  Thank  you,  little  one  !  That  compliment  is  sincere, 
however  flattering,"  laughed  the  heiress. 

"  And  now  look  here  !  "  said  Mr.  Alexander,  taking  up 
another  parcel ;  "  she  is  wearing  her  ball  dress,  you  know, 


80  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

which  is  very  proper  for  Christmas,  but  would  never  do  for 
every  day.  And  a  thrifty  little  woman  like  you  would 
never  let  her  doll  wear  her  best  clothes  for  common  ;  so  you 
must  fit  her  out  with  a  wardrobe,  and  here  are  the  goods  to 
do  it  with." 

And  he  unrolled  a  second  parcel,  and  displayed  a  yard 
each  of  pink,  blue  and  buff  cambric,  and  several  yards  of 
white  muslin,  and  some  remnants  of  ribbon  and  lace. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  as  the  child  was  contemplating 
these  additional  treasures  with  increased  delight,  "  now  you 
will  require  something  to  make  them  up  with,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  mustn't  wish  for  anything  more.  This  is 
too  much  !  "  said  the  little  one,  with  eyes  dancing  for  joy. 

"  Except  what  you  wished  for  first  of  all,  which  I  think 
was  something  like  this,"  said  Mr.  Alexander  opening  a 
third  parcel,  and  producing  a  pretty  little  work-box  fitted 
out  with  scissors,  thimble,  needles,  thread,  and  every 
requisite  for  sewing. 

"  Oh,  how  much  I  do  thank  you,  sir.  Once  before  I 
dreamt  I  had  pretty  things  like  these  all  to  myself,  and  I 
was  sorry  I  ever  woke  up.  Do  you  think  I'll  wake  up  this 
time,  sir  ? "  inquired  the  little  girl,  evidently  perplexed 
between  delight  and  dismay. 

Mr.  Alexander  laughed,  and  intensely  enjoyed  the  pas 
time  that  he  had  purchased  at  so  small  an  outlay,  but  the 
old  lady  said,  very  gravely  : 

"  You  have  bewildered  the  child,  Alick.  She  is  not  used 
to  presents,  and  you  should  have  treated  her  upon  the 
same  principle  as  that  upon  which  the  doctors  treat  their 
patients,  who  have  been  suffering  from  a  long  starvation, 
and  given  her  but  a  little  at  a  time.  And  now  put  her  off 
your  knee  and  come  to  breakfast ;  or  if  you  can't  part  with 
her,  bring  her  along." 

Mr.  Alexander  immediately  put  the  little  creature  down, 
and  told  her  to  take  up  her  treasures  and  run  away  with 
tl^m  to  her  mother  a?  fast  as  she  could. 


THE      CHILD     MEETS     HER     FATE.  81 

Mr.  Alexander  could  give  the  child  presents  and  divert 
himself  with  her  delight  in  them,  but  he  could  not  consent 
to  be  bothered  with  her  at  the  breakfast  table,  where  he 
wished  to  give  "  his  whole  mind "  to  the  business  there  to 
be  on  hand. 

His  mother,  more  considerate,  touched  the  bell,  and  told 
the  servant  who  answered  it  to  help  the  child  to  carry  her 
presents  to  the  houskeeper's  room. 

The  man  gathered  the  parcels  up  and  took  Drusilla  by 
the  hand  ;  but  as  he  led  her  from  the  room  she  suddenly 
looked  back,  impulsively  broke  away  from  her  guard,  and 
ran  up  to  her  benefactor  and  took  his  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  Why,  what  a  grateful  little  imp  you  are,  to  be  sure ! 
It  is  worth  while  trying  to  please  you  /  one  succeeds  so  well 
and  one's  efforts  are  appreciated  and  thanked,"  said  the 
3^oung  man,  raising  the  child  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her, 
and  then  darting  a  half-merry,  half-reproachful  glance  at 
his  cousin  Anna. 

"  If  you  meant  that  for  me,  Mr.  Alick,  I  don't  see  the 
point  of  it.  You  never  do  anything  to  please  me,  unless  it 
still  better  pleases  yourself.  You  are  one  of  the  sort  of 
folk  who  would  carelessly  fling  a  dollar  to  a  strange  beggar, 
but  would  not  lose  an  hour's  rest  by  the  bedside  of  a  sick 
friend,"  said  plain-spoken  Anna. 

"Well,  there's  somebody  that  will  do  both,"  said  Mr. 
Alexander,  jerking  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  in  the 
direction  of  Dick.  "  He  sat  up  with  old  Jerry  Brown,  who 
had  the  smallpox.  I  wonder  if  you  would  have  liked  him 
so  well,  Anna,  if  he  had  taken  it ;  as  he  might  have  done  ; 
and  lost  his  hair  and  eyebrows  and  been  otherwise  badly 
marked  ?  " 

"  Yes  I  would,  Alick  !  But,  thank  goodness,  Dick,  dar 
ling,  you  didn't  get  it,  and  you  are  not  marked  j  but  just  as 
good-looking  as  ever,"  said  Anna,  defiantly. 

"  Come,  come,  this  is  pretty  quarrelling  among  cousins 
5 


82  THE     CHANGE!)      BKIDES. 

on  Christmas  morning,  too !     Put  a  stop  to  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Lyon. 

The  young  people  laughed  and  obeyed.  They  were  only 
"  sparring."  And  they  all  sat  down  to  the  breakfast-table 
in  high,  good  humor. 

And  little  Drusilla  went  back  to  her  mother,  as  happy  as 
it  was  possible  for  a  child  to  be.  And  her  happiness  was 
all  associated  with  the  idea  of  Mr.  Alexander,  that  splendid 
being  who  had  been  the  central  object  of  all  her  wonder, 
curiosity  and  admiration,  long  before  she  had  set  eyes  on 
him.  She  had  never  dreamed  of  such  bliss  as  she  now 
enjoyed,  and  all  through  him  ! 

Up  to  this  time  her  little  life  had  been  dreary  enough, 
more  dreary  than  even  she  knew  since  she  had  known 
nothing  better  with  which  to  compare  it.  Her  very  earliest 
recollections  were  of  her  father's  sick  room,  and  his  long 
and  painful  illness ;  and  then  came  his  death,  and  her 
mother's  sorrow  and  their  poverty ;  and  finally,  this  situa 
tion  in  the  family  of  the  Chief  Justice,  where  the  child 
had  been  led  to  believe  that  her  presence  could  be  only  tol 
erated  for  the  sake  of  her  mother's  valuable  services,  and 
upon  condition  of  herself  being  kept  out  of  the  sight  and 
hearing  of  the  family. 

All  these  were  very  miserable  and  gloomy  antecedents  ; 
but  now  they  had  passed  away  like  the  shadows  of  the 
night ;  for  now  came  this  bright,  young  Mr.  Alexander,  to 
bring  daylight  and  sunshine  into  her  infant  life. 

His  kindness  to  the  pale  orphan  did  not  cease  with 
Christmas  Day.  So  long  as  the  Christmas  and  New-Years 
holidays  lasted,  Mr.  Alick  insisted  on  little  Drusilla  sharing 
all  the  young  people's  amusements ;  because,  in  point  of 
fact,  it  greatly  enhanced  his  enjoyment  to  have  her  with 
them. 

When  the  holidays  were  over,  General  Lyon  took  his 
grand-daughter  back  to  school ;  Mr.  Alexander  returned  tc 
college  ;  and  the  house  was  emptied  of  its  visitors. 


THE     NEXT     FEW      YEARS.  80 

In  taking  leave  of  his  pet,  Mr.  Alick  had  said : 

"And  now,  Brasilia,  when  I  am  gone  you  must  be  my 
mother's  little  girl,  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  might !  Oh,  how  I  do  wish  I 
might ! "  said  the  child,  weeping  and  clinging  to  her 
friend.  , 

"  Mother,  when  I  am  gone,  you'll  he  good  to  the  poor 
little  thing,  if  only  for  my  sake,  won't  you  ?  "  he  inquired, 
as  a  feeling  of  real  pity  moved  his  heart. 

"  Indeed  I  will,  Alick,"  earnestly  replied  the  old  lady. 

"And  you  will  not  let  old  Bishop  Sterling  keep  her 
mewed  up  in  that  horrid  room  all  the  time  ?  " 

(l  Not  if  I  can  prevent  it,  Alick." 

With  this  promise  Mr.  Alick  departed. 

And  little  Brasilia  clung  to  the  old  lady's  skirts,  and 
wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

For  her  the  day  had  departed  with  the  sun  that  had 
made  its  light,  and  the  darkness  of  the  night  had  come 
again. 

You  may  depend  upon  it  that  the  old  lady  sincerely  sym 
pathized  with  the  child  who  wept  for  her  son's  departure, 
and  so  she  petted  little  Brasilia,  and  took  her  out  that  day, 
when  she  went  in  the  carriage  to  purchase  some  articles 
that  were  needed  in  the  housekeeping. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   NEXT    FEW   YEARS. 

When  she  commenced  to  love  she  could  not  say, 

Ere  she  began  to  tire  of  childish  play.— WORDSWORTH. 

THE  little   girl   grew  to  be  a  great  favorite  with  the  old 
lady  j  first,  for  her  beloved  and  only  son's  sake. 


84  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

"  Poor  Alick  was  so  fond  of  the  child,"  she  said ;  though 
why  she  called  the  gay  and  prosperous  young  collegian 
"poor,"  only  aged  mothers  can  tell. 

Afterwards  she  loved  the  little  one  for  its  own  sake. 

"  The  child  is  such  a  quiet  little  creature/'  she  said,  "  and 
so  intelligent  and  obliging." 

Little  Drusilla  had  the  freedom  of  the  house.  When  her 
tasks  were  over  in  the  housekeeper's  room  she  might  wander 
where  she  would,  and  was  tolerated  like  a  pet  kitten. 

She  would  creep  into  the  old  lady's  sitting-room,  and  nes 
tle  down  at  her  feet,  ready  to  hold  a  skein  of  silk  for  her  to 
wind  ;  to  pick  up  her  scissors  when  she  should  drop  them  ; 
to  ring  the  hell  for  a  servant,  or  to  do  anything  else  that 
her  little  hands  and  willing  mind  could  accomplish. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  she  became  useful  and  even 
necessary  to  her  benefactress. 

"  You  have  no  idea  how  many  steps  about  my  room  the 
little  creature  saves  me,"  said  Mrs.  Lyon  to  the  child's 
mother. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  madam  ;  it  is  her  duty  to 
make  herself  useful,"  replied  the  housekeeper. 

"And  then  she  is  so  much  company." 

"  I  hope  she  knows  her  place,  madam,  and  is  not  pert." 

"  She  is  a  little  dear,  and  I  would  not  be  without  her  for 
anything  ;  so  don't  be  troubled." 

"  I  trust  in  you,  madam,  to  send  her  away  whenever  she 
becomes  annoying  to  you." 

"  Quite  right ;  when  she  becomes  annoying  I  shall  do  so," 
laughed  the  old  lady. 

Whenever  Mrs.  Lyon  got  letters  from  Mr.  Alexander  she 
read  them  to  little  Drusilla ;  and  in  no  one  could  she  have 
found  a  more  attentive,  intelligent  and  sympathizing  lis 
tener.  In  almost  every  letter  the  young  gentleman  wrote  : 

"  Give  my  love  to  my  little  pet,  and  kiss  her  for  me,"  or 
words  to  that  effect. 


THE      NEXT     FEW      YEARS.  85 

Whenever  Mrs.  Lyon  wrote  to  Mr.  Alexander  she  would 
smilingly  ask  the  child  what  message  she  had  to  send ;  and 
little  Drusillai  would  answer  : 

"  Please  say  I  sent  him  a  love  and  a  kiss ;  and  I  ask  our 
Father  to  bless  him  whenever  I  say  my  prayers.'' 

And  the  message  would  be  faithfully  transmitted. 

Sometimes  when  Mrs.  Lyon  chanced  to  be  out  of  her 
room  the  little  girl  would  creep  to  the  door  of  Judge  Lyon's 
study,  and  peep  shyly  in. 

And  whether  the  old  lady  happened  to  be  there  or  not 
the  old  gentleman  would  call  the  child  in,  and  pat  her 
head,  and  talk  to  her,  and  feel  in  all  his  pockets  for  stray 
pennies  to  give  her. 

Little  Drusilla  had  but  one  use  for  pennies — "  to  drop  in 
the  purse  "  that  was  carried  around  on  Sundays  in  the 
Sunday-school. 

Mrs.  Sterling,  seeing  how  really  welcome  her  child  was, 
"  in  hall  and  bower,"  no  longer  tried  to  keep  her  confined 
to  the  housekeeper's  room. 

So  the  winter  passed  away,  and  the  spring  opened. 

Early  in  the  season  the  family,  with  their  whole  estab 
lishment  of  servants,  migrated  to  Crowood,  the  fine  old 
country-seat  of  the  chief  justice,  situated  in  the  dense 
forest-land  of  the  valley.  Of  course  Mrs.  Sterling  and  her 
child  went  along  with  them. 

Among  woods,  fields,  and  streams,  birds,  shrubs  and 
flowers,  little  Drusilla  seemed  in  her  native  element,  and 
with  her  fellow-creatures.  Her  enjoyment  of  nature  was 
intense  and  her  delight  unbounded.  Her  joy  overflowed 
and  communicated  itself  to  every  one  in  the  family.  Even 
the  old  justice  said  : 

"  The  child  makes  me  long  to  have  my  grandchildren 
about  my  knees  ;  for,  after  all,  this  little  one  isn't  ours." 

"  Well,  if  she  isn't  she's  a  pet  of  poor  Alick's,  and  that 
makes  me  think  a  deal  of  her,"  answered  Mrs.  Lyon. 


86  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

The  old  lady  was  a  great  flora-culturist,  and  had  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  flower-gardens  in  the  country.  It  was 
her  pleasure  to  tend  it  herself;  and  she  passed  much  of  her 
time  in  dibbling  and  digging,  weeding  and  watering,  plant 
ing  and  transplanting  her  favorite  specimens. 

And  on  these  occasions  the  child  was  always  at  her  heels, 
with  little  spade,  rake,  hoe,  watering-pot,  or  guano  basket ; 
and  she  soon  learned  to  know  the  name,  and  watch  the 
growth  of  every  variety  of  flower  as  well  and  as  carefully 
as  her  benefactress  could. 

Mrs.  Lyon  was  also  a  poultry  fancier,  and  had  some  of 
the  finest  broods  in  the  neighborhood.  Moreover,  she  chose 
to  look  after  her  hen-roosts  and  nests  in  person. 

And  whenever  she  visited  her  poultry-yard  for  this  pur 
pose  little  Drusilla  would  walk  behind  her  with  a  basket, 
which  she  would  carry  full  of  corn  for  the  chickens,  and 
bring  back  full  of  fresh  eggs  for  breakfast.  And  the 
child  knew  the  relative  merits  of  bantam,  dominicho,  duck- 
legged,  or  Spanish  broods,  as  well  as  their  mistress.  Shang 
hais  and  Cochin  Chinas  were  unheard  of  in  that  day. 

But  Mrs.  Lyon's  pride  of  prides  was  her  drove  of  cows — 
unexcelled  and  even  unapproached  in  all  the  country  around. 
And  to  these  especially,  the  old  lady  often  gave  her  per 
sonal  attention. 

And  whenever  she  walked  down  to  the  cow-pen  in  the 
afternoon  milking-time,  to  see  for  herself  that  her  cows 
were  in  a  good  condition,  and  that  her  milk-maids  did  their 
duty  faithfully,  little  Drusilla  walked  behind  her,  with  a 
little  basket  in  her  hand  full  of  small,  sweet  apples  to  treat 
the  pets.  And  with  her  own  little  hand  she  would  hold  a 
small  apple  up  to  the  great  mouth  of  some  prize  cow,  and 
laugh  to  see  the  long  red  tongue  thrust  out  and  folded 
around  the  morsel  to  be  crunched  up  by  the  teeth.  And 
the  child  knew  the  name  and  pedigree  of  every  prodigious 
prize  cow  there,  and  could  tell  the  distinctive  points  of  the 
Durham,  Alderney,  Ayrshire,  or  other  breeds. 


THE      !>  i:  X  T      FEW      YEARS.  87 

In  a  word  she  became  the  old  lady's  "  shadow,"  an  I  she 
learned  all  the  old  lady  could  teach  her  without  giving  her 
teacher  the  least  trouble,  but  on  the  contrary  a  great  deal 
of  assistance.  She  gained  much  practical  knowledge,  if 
but  little  book  learning. 

Strangers  who  saw  them  together  invariably  took  the 
little  girl  to  be  the  old  lady's  grand-daughter  j  and  Mrs. 
Lyon  was  always  rather  pleased  by  the  mistake. 

And  little  Brasilia  was  "  as  happy  as  the  day  was  long." 

So  passed  the  spring  and  half  the  summer. 

But  in  the  middle  of  July  the  chief  justice  and  his  wife 
went  to  the  mountains,  to  old  Lyon  Hall,  on  a  visit  to  the 
general  and  his  daughter,  where  they  expected  to  be  joined 
by  Mr.  Alexander. 

Little  Drusilla  wept  over  the  departure  of  her  friends ; 
but  when  they  were  gone  she  occupied  herself  with  the 
commissions  Mrs.  Lyon  had  left  to  her — left  with  the  pur 
pose  of  interesting  and  amusing  the  lonely  child  during  her 
own  absence.  These  were  to  weed  the  flower-beds,  feed  the 
chickens,  and  take  small  sweet  apples  to  the  favorite  cows 
at  the  afternoon  milking-time. 

All  these  pleasant  tasks  did  the  little  girl  gladly  and 
faithfully  perform. 

Nevertheless  the  days  seemed  long,  now  that  her  dear 
old  friends  were  gone. 

But  days  and  weeks,  however  tedious,  pass  away  in  time. 

At  the  end  of  six  weeks,  on  the  first  of  September,  the 
chief  justice  and  his  wife  come  back  to  Crowood. 

Mrs.  Lyon  could  not  enough  praise  the  fidelity  of  her 
little  handmaiden.  There  was  not  a  weed  to  be  found  in 
all  the  flower  beds  ;  the  chickens  were  fat,  and  the  cows  in 
a  good  condition  (though  this  last  item  was  of  course  due 
more  to  the  fine  grazing  than  to  the  little  treats  of  sweet 
apples  tendered  to  them  by  the  little  Drusilla.) 

The  old  lady  and  the   child  became  better  friends  than 


88  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

ever.  Mrs.  Lyon  had  a  great  deal  to  tell  about  Mr.  Alex 
ander,  and  little  Drusilla  was  never  tired  of  listening. 

And  so  three  more  pleasant  months  were  passed  at  Cro- 
wood,  and  then  the  family  went  back  to  the  city.  They 
were  comfortably  settled  in  their  town  house  by  the  first  of 
December. 

Mrs.  Lyon  went  out  in  the  carriage  to  shop,  and  took 
Drusilla,  and  purchased  for  her  pretty,  bright  colored  merino 
dresses,  suitable  for  childhood. 

Christmas  came,  and  brought  General  Lyon,  Miss  Anna 
and  Mr.  Alexander,  on  their  annual  visit.  And  Mr.  Rich 
ard  Hammond  came,  an  uninvited  but  nat  an  unwelcome 
guest. 

Little  Drusilla  was  now  always  with  Mrs.  Lyon.  The 
housekeeper  had  fairly  given  the  child  up  to  the  old  lady. 

And  Mr.  Alexander,  who,  on  this  occasion  was  the  first 
of  the  Christmas  party  to  arrive,  found  Drusilla  in  the 
drawing-room,  ne'atly  dressed  in  a  crimson  merino  frock, 
with  a  ruffled  white  apron,  and  with  her  pretty  hair  curled 
and  tied  back  with  crimson  ribbons. 

After  affectionately  greeting  his  mother  and  father,  he 
turned  to  the  child. 

"  Why— is  this  ?  No,  it  isn't.  Yes,  it  is  actually  my 
little  Drusilla.  Why,  what  a  bright  little  bird  you  have 
grown,  to  be  sure !  "  he  exclaimed,  snatching  her  up  in  his 
arms  and- kissing  her  boisterously,  as  she  clung  around  his 
neck,  smiling  in  delight,  and  timidly  hiding  her  face. 

"  Well,  I  will  say,  mother,  she  does  you  credit.  You 
have  quite  transfigured  her.  What  have  you  been  doing 
to  her  to  improve  her  so  much  ?  " 

"  Giving  her  a  little  more  sunshine,  that  is  all,  Alick," 
smiled  the  old  lady,  greatly  pleased  because  the  son  of 
her  old  age  was  so. 

"  I  declare  I  never  saw  such  a  change  in  any  creature. 
I  left  her  a  year  ago,  a  dingy  little  chimney  swallow.  I 


THE      NEXT      FEW      YEARS.  89 

come  back,  and  find  her  a  brilliant  oriole.  Indeed,  I  didn't 
know  her  at  first,  and  I  shouldn't  have  known  her  at  all, 
but  for  her  eyes  and  forehead  ;  they  will  never  change.  I 
say,  father,  by  the  way,  talking  of  her  forehead,  look  at  it. 
If  there  be  any  truth  in  phrenology,  she  must  have  intel 
lect." 

"  I  don't  think  it  requires  an  appeal  to  phrenology  to 
prove  that  the  child  has  rare  intelligence,"  said  the  chief 
justice. 

"  Intellect  is  a  snare  as  well  as  beauty ;  goodness  is  the 
quality  most  to  be  desired,"  remarked  Mrs.  Lyon,  gravely. 
Then,  speaking  to  the  child,  she  added : 

"Now  run  away  into  the  garden  and  play  for  half  an 
hour  or  so.  This  clear,  frosty  air  outside  is  good  for  little 
girls." 

Mr.  Alexander  put  his  pet  down,  and  then  the  little 
creature  ran  out  of  the  room. 

"  I  must  beg  you  both,  my  husband  arid  son,  not  to  say 
such  things  as  3^011  have  been  saying  in  the  child's  presence 
again.  I  have  too  real  a  regard  for  her  to  wish  to  have  her 
spoiled." 

"  All  right,  mother;  I  wouldn't  do  anything  to  spoil  her 
for  the  world,"  said  Mr.  Alexander. 

And  the  chief  justice  also  acquiesced,  for  the  old  lady 
was  queen-regnant  in  her  own  family  kingdom. 

An  hour  later  General  Lyon  and  Miss  Anna  arrived. 
And  at  night  Mr.  Richard  made  his  appearance.  And 
with  the  coming  of  Dick  the  holidays  really  commenced. 

On  Christmas  morning  a  great  many  presents  were  inter 
changed.  And  while  ricli  jewelry,  furs,  shawls,  dresses, 
laces,  slippers,  caps,  gowns  and  gloves  were  given  and  re 
ceived,  little  Drusilla  ran  from  one  group  to  another,  deeply 
interested  and  sincerely  sympathizing  in  the  pleasure  and 
satisfaction  of  her  friends. 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  you  this  time,  little  one  ;  see  here, 


90  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

what  a  lot  of  pretty  stories  to  read  these  long  winter  eve 
nings,"  said  Mr.  Alick,  unwrapping  a  parcel  from  which  he 
took  a  large  volume  of  "Fairy  Tales/'  profusely  illustrated 
with  splendidly  colored  engravings. 

What  child's  heart  does  not  dote  on  Fairy  Tales  and  on 
colored  pictures  ? 

Little  Drusilla's  eyes  fairly  leaped  with  joy,  and  she  caught 
the  young  man's  hand  and  kissed  it  eagerly,  and  pressed  it 
to  her  heart,  and  put  it  on  her  head.  Apparently  she  could 
not  do  enough  to  express  how  much  she  was  obliged  to  him. 

"  Oh,  nonsense ;  I'm  not  the  Emperor  of  Morocco  or 
Khan  of  Tartary,  to  he  worshipped  after  that  fashion," 
laughed  the  young  man,  "  and  my  knuckles  must  be  knobby 
s^rt  of  kissing.  Up  here,  crimson  lips,  and  kiss  me  on  the 
mouth,  if  nothing  but  kissing  will  relieve  your  mind. 
Come,  Miss  Anna  won't  be  jealous,  not  now,  at  least,  though 
I  don't  know  what  she  might  be  if  you  were  seventeen  in 
stead  of  seven."  And  he  took  her  up  in  his  arms,  and 
kissed  her  very  fondly. 

"  And  now  see  here,"  he  said,  as  he 'put  her  down  again, 
"here  is  something  else  I  have  got  for  you — a  pretty  little 
papier  mache  writing  desk,  furnished  completely.  See, 
here  is  an  inkstand  and  a  sand  box,  here  are  pens  of  sev 
eral  sizes,  and  pencils  of  all  qualities,  and  here  are  envel 
opes  and  note-paper  of  every  color  and  shade.  Now  I 
know  you  can  write  a  little,  as  well  as  read  a  great  deal. 
So,  when  I  go  away  again,  I  want  you,  instead  of  sending 
me  messages,  to  write  me  nice  little  notes,  and  give  them  to 
my  mother,  and  she  will  put  them  inside  of  hers,  and  send 
them  to  me.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  child,  gravely,  as  the  tears  stole 
down  her  cheeks. 

"  Now,  then,  what  are  you  crying  for  ?  " 

"  Because  you  are  so  good  to  me,  and — and  you  are  going 
away  again,  and  I  shall  not  see  you  for — for — for  a  year," 
sobbed  the  little  Drusilla. 


THE     NEXT     FEW     YEARS.  91 

"  Whe-ew!  here's  borrowing  trouble!  Why,  I  shall  not 
go  for  six  weeks  yet,  and  who  knows  but  the  world  may 
come  to  an  end  before  that  time,  and  we  may  all  go  to 
Heaven  together?  Come,  stop  crying.  What!  you  can't? 
Hey  day  !  Do  you  love  me  as  much  as  all  that  comes 
to?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  sobbed  the  child. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  do  love  me,  mind  what  I  say,  and 
stop  crying.  It  blubbers  your  face  all  up,  and  makes  you 
ugly,  and  I  couldn't  possibly  love  an  ugly  little  girl." 

Drusilla  wiped  her  eyes  by  rubbing  her  fists  into  them, 
and  then,  little  woman-like,  turned  her  head  aside,  and  stole 
a  furtive  glance  at  the  mirror  opposite,  to  see  if  she  had 
made  herself  as  ugly  as  Mr.  Alexander  said,  and  finding 
that  she  had,  she  began  to  compose  herself. 

And  in  a  few  minutes  afterwards  she  seemed  deeply  in 
terested  in  sorting  the  contents  of  her  writing  desk. 

This  was  one  of  the  merriest  Christmas  seasons  that  the 
young  people  of  the  Ly on  family  ever  passed.  The  weather 
was  very  fine.  Everybody  was  in  good  health  and  high 
spirits.  Amusements  \vere  many  and  various.  And  where- 
ever  the  young  party  went  they  took  little  Drusilla  with 
them.  She  was  the  family  pet. 

Bright  seasons  must  terminate,  as  well  as  dark  ones,  and 
the  merry  Christmas  holidays  came  to  an  end,  and  the 
happy  Christmas  party  separated. 

Again  little  Drusilla  was  inconsolable,  until  time  recon 
ciled  her  to  the  absence  of  her  friend. 

But  she  obeyed  his  order,  given  half  in  jest  and  half  in 
earnest.  She  wrote  a  little  letter  to  him  to  be  put  in  every 
one  that  his  mother  sent.  And  real  love-letters  they  were 
too,  though  scratched  in  the  most  awkward  of  infantile 
hands. 

"  I  love  you  so  ;  I  do  love  you  so  much ;  I  do  love  you 
more  than  anybody  in  the  world ;  every  time  I  say  my 


92  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES 

prayers  I  thank  Our  Father  for  making  yon,  and  I  pray  to 
Him  to  bless  you  and  to  keep  you  good.  And  I  do  all  you 
tell  me  to  do,  and  it  makes  me  feel  glad.  And  I  don't  do 
what  you  tell  me  not  to  do.  And  when  anybod}''  wants  me 
to  do  anything  well  that  is  hard,  they  speak  your  name  and 
then  it  seems  easy  for  me.  I  let  mother  cut  off  all  my  long 
curls  and  did  not  cry,  for  she  said  that  my  hair  would  grow 
out  so  much  nicer  by  the  time  you  come  back.  But  oh, 
how  long  it  will  be  before  you  come  back.  But  I  won't  cry 
after  you,  for  you  say  it  makes  me  ugly  and  you  couldn't 
love  an  ugly  little  girl.  Mother  says  I  must  not  wish  to  be 
pretty  ;  but  oh,  I  do,  because  }TOU  like  pretty  people.  But 
if  I  am  good  you  will  always  like  me,  won't  you  ?  Is  there 
any  little  girl  at  college  that  you  like  as  well  as  me  ? 
You've  got  the  little  dog,  I  know.  You  took  him  with  you. 
To  think  you  could  take  the  little  dog  and  couldn't  take  me. 
It  does  seem  hard,  because  I  love  you,  oh  so  much  more 
than  the  little  dog  could.  I'm  not  jealous  of  the  poor  little 
dog ;  don't  think  that,  only  it  seems  so  hard,  when  I  love 
you  so  much." 

Such  was  the  sort  of  ardent  nonsense  the  little  child 
wrote  to  her  big  hero ;  but  after  all,  it  was  no  worse 
nonsense  than  many  of  her  grown-up  sisters  write  to  the 
heroes  of  their  imaginations. 

Old  Mrs.  Lyon  never  looked  into  little  Drusilla's  scrawls 
— or,  if  she  did,  she  never  took  the  trouble  to  decipher 
them. 

Mr.  Alick  would  smile  over  them  ;  because  they  pleased 
him.  He  liked  to  be  loved.  The  preference  of  any  dumb 
brute  was  pleasing  to  him  ;  how  much  more  so  then  the 
worship — for  it  was  little  less — of  this  fervent,  earnest, 
enthusiastic  little  girl? 

"  How  devoted  to  me  the  little  quiz  is,  to  be  sure. 
Christopher  Columbus  !  if  this  sort  of  thing  should  grow 
with  her  growth  and  strengthen  with  her  strength,  what 


THE      NEXT      FEW      YEARS.  93 

will  become  of  me  ?  Bosh  !  by  the  time  she  is  seventeen 
or  eighteen  some  young  prig  of  a  parson  will  cut  me  out 
and  there  an  end." 

And  Mr.  Alick  laughed  at  the  conceit,  and  thought  of  the 
black-eyed  girl  he  had  danced  with  at  the  last  party. 

But  for  all  that  he  could  not  do  without  the  child's  love 
or  the  child's  letters  ;  and  he  cherished  both. 

This  first  year  of  Brasilia's  life  with  the  Lyon  family 
was  a  sample  of  several  that  followed. 

Every  Spring  the  family  went  to  Crowood,  taking  the 
housekeeper  and  her  child  and  all  the  servants  with  them  ; 
and  Drusilla  renewed  her  acquaintance  with  woods  and 
fields  and  streams  ;  and  increased  her  knowledge  of  plants, 
poultry,  cows,  and  animate  and  inanimate  nature  generally, 
from  personal  observation. 

Every  midsummer  she  was  left  princess  regent  of  the 
poultry  yard,  etc.,  while  her  benefactors  went  to  visit  their 
relatives  in  Old  Lyon  Hall  in  the  mountains. 

Every  autumn  the  family  returned  to  Richmond  to  spend 
the  winter. 

And  every  Christmas  came  the  grand  family  re-union,  in 
which,  to  the  child's  worshipping  eyes,  Mr.  Alexander  was 
the  central  figure.  This  Christmas  gathering  became  to 
her  the  crowning  glory  of  the  year,  for  then  she  saw  him. 
He  became  thus  associated  with  all  that  was  best  and 
brightest  in  her  life.  He  brought  her  the  books  and 
pictures  for  which  already  her  intellect  and  imagination 
had  begun  to  hunger.  He  always  examined  into  the  prog 
ress  of  her  education  ;  though  that  w^as  scarcely  necessary, 
for  the  constantly  improving  style  of  her  letters  to  him 
revealed  her  steady  advance.  I  believe  that  with  her  bright 
intelligence,  she  would  have  studied  well  from  the  pure  love 
of  knowledge,  even  if  Mr.  Alexander  had  never  patronized 
her ;  but  now  all  cooler  motives  were  lost  in  the  ardent 
desire  to  please  her  friend.  And  indeed  she  did  please 


94  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

him  ;  he  was  proud  of  her,  vain  of  her,  not  as  if  he  had 
been  her  father,  but  as  if  he  had  been  her  creator.  He 
seemed  to  think,  as  she  grew  in  beauty  and  bright  intelli 
gence,  that  he  had  made  her  what  she  was.  To  his  appre 
hension,  he  was  the  sun  and  she  the  sun-flower,  ever  turn 
ing  towards  him  for  light  and  life. 

Every  one,  who  is  not  blindly  selfish,  likes  to  patronize 
where  to  do  so  costs  little  or  nothing.  Mr.  Alexander's  pat 
ronage  of  this  child  amused  and  interested  him  ;  cost  him 
nothing  ;  but  won  for  him  a  vast  return  of  love  and  grati 
tude. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


One  hurried  kiss,  one  last,  one  long  embrace, 
One  yearning  look  upon  her  tearful  face, 
And  he  was  gone — C.  H.  W.  ESLING. 

AT  ten  years  of  age  little  Drusilla  met  her  first  great 
grief;  and  very  heavy  it  was,  for  it  nearly  crushed  out  her 
life. 

Mr.  Alexander  being  twenty-two  years  of  age,  and 
having  completed  his  college  course,  graduated  with  some 
honors,  and  returned  home  to  spend  a  week  or  two  of  the 
beautiful  spring  weather  with  his  parents  previous  to  start 
ing  on  his  travels. 

The  family  had  not  yet  left  the  town  house  in  Richmond, 
where  General  Lyon  and  Miss  Anna,  now  a  blooming  young 
lady  of  sixteen,  came  to  visit  them. 

During  this  visit  it  was  arranged  that  Mr.  Alexander 
should  travel  for  two  years  and  then  return  and  marry 
Miss  Anna,  and  that  the  young  couple  should  take  up 
their  permanent  abode  at  Old  Lyon  Hull. 


THE      GIRL'S     FIRST      GRIEF.  95 

But  in  all  the  interest  and  excitement  of  arranging  his 
own  and  his  promised  bride's  affairs,  Alexander  did  not 
neglect  Drusilla.  He  had  come  into  a  little  property  of  his 
own,  left  him  by  a  bachelor  brother  of  his  mother  j  and  so 
before  he  went  away  he  said  to  the  old  lady : 

u  Mother,  little  Drusilla  is  going  on  eleven  years  old  and 
ought  to  be  sent  to  school.  And  I  wish  you,  if  you  please, 
to  look  out  a  good  one  for  her,  the  best  that  can  be  found, 
and  send  her.  I  wish  you  to  do  this  for  me  at  my  expense. 
MJT  money  is  in  the  City  Bank,  and  I  will  leave  you  a 
number  of  blank  checks,  to  fill  up  as  you  may  require  them. 
Will  you  attend  to  this  for  me,  mother  ?  " 

Mrs.  Lyon  hesitated  and  pondered,  and  then  answered : 

"  Yes,  Alick.  I  can't  refuse  you  anything  on  the.  eve  of 
a  voyage.  And  I  don't  see  any  harm  in  this — a  good  com 
mon  school  education " 

"  Oh,  mother,  not  that  only  ;  but  the  best — the  very  best 
— that  can  be  got  for  her.  See  what  a  bright,  intelligent, 
industrious  little  creature  she  is/7  hastily  interrupted 
Alexander. 

"  What !  do  you  mean  that  she  shall  learn  languages  and 
music,  and " 

— "  Everything  that  a  young  lady  is  taught,  mother. 
Everything  that  Anna  knows.  Why  not  ?  Think  how 
small  the  cost,  after  all,  to  ine  ;  how  great  the  good  to 
her." 

"  That  is  true,  Alick.  You  are  really  a  very  noble- 
minded  young  man.  I  must  say  it,  if  you  are  my  son." 

"  Bosh,  mother,  begging  your  pardon,  I'm  nothing  of  the 
sort.  But  I  like  to  do  a  good  thing  now  and  then." 

"  And  this  will  be  a  good  thing  for  her.  It  will  enable 
her  to  get  her  living  as  a  governess." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  mother  ;  Heaven  forbid  that  my  child 
should  ever  become  a  governess,  to  be  teased  by  stupid 
children  and  snubbed  by  insolent  mammas." 


96  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  you  and  Anna  will  have  to  adopt 
her,"  said  the  old  lady  drily. 

"  And  what's  to  hinder  us  ?  Think  what  a  charming 
companion  my  child  will  be  for  Anna,  and  how  mnch  more 
charming  if  she  should  be  well  educated." 

"  Why,  you  talk  as  if  you  were  her  father." 

"  Well,  I  feel  as  if  I  was  ! "  said  the  young  man,  as  a 
real  tenderness  softened  the  expression  of  his  face. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Alexander  left  home  for  his  distant 
travels. 

"  No  one  took  the  parting  hard  but  his  mother  and  his 
"child." 

His  father  and  his  uncle  shook  hands  with  him  heartily, 
wishing  him  a  good  voyage.  His  mother  held  him  to  her 
heart  and  prayed  and  wept  over  him.  Miss  Anna  kissed 
him  with  a  cordial,  cousinly  smack,  and  told  him  not  to 
forget  her  in  foreign  parts. 

But  when  he  lifted  Drusilla  up,  as  he  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  do,  and  kissed  her  on  the  mouth  once,  twice, 
thrice,  and  said  feelingly  : 

"  I  cannot  do  this  when  I  come  back  again,  my  child ! " 

She  clung  to  his  bosom  and  gasped,  but  could  make  no 
reply,  she  was  so  suffocated  with  grief. 

He  set  her  down  very  gently  and  went  away. 

The  general  and  the  judge  looked  for  the  morning  papers. 

Miss  Anna  sat  down  to  cut  the  leaves  of  a  new  novel. 

But  old  Miss  Lyon  took  the  hand  of  the  pale,  tearless, 
motionless  child,  and  led  her  away. 

Little  Drusilla,  sensitive,  impressible  and  inexperienced, 
dropped  under  the  heavy  blow  that  had  fallen  on  her  with 
all  the  force  of  a  first  great  sorrow.  She  fell  ill,  nearly 
unto  death,  moaning,  in  her  semi-delirium,  snatches  of  her 
grief: 

"  01',  don't  go  !  don't  go  !  Two  years — two  long,  long 
years !  Oh  !  so  far  away  !  His  man  could  go  with  him, 


THE      GIRLS      FIRST      GRIEF.  97 

and  not  I — not  I  who  will  die  about  it !     Oh,  come  back  ! 
come  back,  or  I  will  die — indeed  I  will  die  ! " 

Mrs.  Lyon  soothed  this  distress  as  well  as  she  was  able, 
and  when,  after  weeks  of  illness,  the  little  girl  grew  better, 
the  old  lady  told  her  of  all  Mr.  Alexander's  plans  for  her 
welfare — that  he  had  decided  she  must  be  sent  to  school  and 
educated  like  a  young  lady ;  that  afterwards  she  was  to  be 
taken  to  live  as  a  companion  to  Miss  Anna. 

Drusilla  listened  very  humbly  and  gratefully  to  this  com 
munication  ;  but  much  as  she  loved  kno\vledge,  and  anxious 
as  she  was  to  acquire  it,  she  felt  too  bereaved  and  sorrowful 
to  take  delight  in  that  or  in  anything  else,  as  yet. 

As  soon  as  the  child  recovered  her  health,  she  wras  fitted 
out  and  put  to  one  of  the  best  boarding  schools  in  the  city. 

Her  mother  made  no  objection,  only  mumbled  to  herself 
this  piece  of  philosophy  : 

"  If  we  don't  know  much  of  the  future,  of  this  we  may 
be  certain — when  we  expect  anything  to  turn  out  this  way, 
it  will  be  sure  to  turn  out  that.  I  thought  the  child  was 
going  to  be  a  nuisance  and  a  bore,  and  behold  !  she  is  a 
treasure  and  a  pet !  And  so  it  is  with  everything  !  " 

And  meanwhile,  with  one  great  bond  of  sympathy  be 
tween  them,  the  old  lady  and  the  little  girl  grew  faster 
friends  than  ever. 

But  her  devotion  to  Alexander — it  grew  with  her 
growth  and  strengthened  with  her  strength.  It  wTas  her 
one  faith,  hope,  love — her  inspiration,  her  religion,  her 
soul ;  it  was  a  part  of  herself — no,  her  very  self — this  all- 
absorbing,  all-concentrating,  all-devoting  love  to  him. 

His  bosom  was  her  home,  though  he  might  never  let 
her  into  it ;  wrhat  the  nest  is  to  the  bird  his  bosom  was 
to  her — the  bourne  of  all  her  thoughts,  the  safe  and 
happy  resting-place  of  her  heart,  though  as  yet  she  was 
an  exile  from  it. 

The  sphere  of  study  was  around  her ;  it  did  not    gov- 
6 


98  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

ern  her,  but  served  her,  for  all  that  she  could  get  from 
it  was  drawn  in  to  help  the  one  great  moving  power 
of  her  being.  She  loved  learning  so  much  for  his  sake, 
that  she  did  not  know  whether  she  loved  it  for  its  own. 
Her  expanding  intellect  seemed  only  her  enlarging  love. 
Her  advancement  in  knowledge  seemed  only  to  be  pro 
gress  towards  him. 

She  seemed  to  herself  to  belong  to  him — to  have  been 
made  for  him,  made  of  him,  almost  by  him.  She  was 
as  the  rib  taken  from  her  Adam's  side,  conscious  of  her 
dislocation,  and  longing  to  be  put  back  again,  and  made 
one  with  the  life  of  her  life.  If  Alexander  had  died  at 
this  time,  I  think  that  Drusilla  would  have  ceased  to 
live. 

One  other  such  case  as  hers  I  have  seen  in  common  life, 
and  that  must  be  nameless,  and  one  I  have  met  in  history, 
the  love  of  the  child-queen,  Isabella,  for  her  grown-up  con 
sort,  Richard  II.  And  that  there  are  many  other  instances 
of  such  devotion,  I  have  no  doubt. 

Drusilla  remained  at  the  "  Irving  Institute  "  for  nearly 
three  years.  With  her  love  of  knowledge  and  desire  for 
improvement,  her  quick  perception  and  retentive  memory, 
her  progress  in  education  was  both  easy  and  rapid. 

As  yet  she  had  not  seen  enough  of  the  world  to  know 
herself  by  comparison  with  others,  so  there  were  some 
things  in  her  school  life  that  gently  moved  her  wonder ; 
first,  in  the  study  hours,  to  see  that  the  pursuits  which  were 
pastime  and  delight  to  her,  were  labor  and  vexation  to  most 
of  her  classmates ;  and  second,  at  the  school  parties,  to 
which  the  younger  brothers  of  the  pupils  were  invited,  to 
see  girls  of  her  own  age  actually  engaged  in  flirtations  vrith 
boys  who  were  no  older  than,  themselves,  and  who  seemed 
to  her,  to  be  children. 

With  the  great  religion,  idolatry — call  the  passion  what 
you  will — that  inspired  her  soul,  she  could  not  understand 


THE      GIRL'S     FIRST      GRIEF.  99 

such  silliness  in  her  companions,  and  therefore,  pretty  and 
intelligent  as  she  was,  her  reserve  made  her  somewhat  un 
popular. 

She  wrote  to  Mr.  Alexander  every  week,  because  he  had 
requested  her  to  do  so  and  she  had  promised,  and  also 
because  writing  to  him  was  the  greatest  pleasure  she  had 
in  this  world  except  receiving  his  letters. 

She  wrote  to  him  regularly  every  week,  as  I  said ;  and 
about  once  in  two  months,  on  an  average,  she  got  a  letter 
from  him ;  but  she  could  not  complain  for  his  mother  got 
one  no  oftener,  and  both  made  excuses  for  him  ;  he  had  "so 
much  to  engage  his  attention,''  they  said. 

At  length,  when  he  had  been  gone  more  than  two  years, 
the  letters  ceased,  or  seemed  to  cease,  altogether.  Several 
months  passed,  and  nothing  was  heard  of  Mr.  Alexander. 
His  father  opined  that  he  had  passed  over  into  Africa, 
where  post-offices  were  few,  and  mails  doubtful,  and  hoped 
that  he  would  soon  return  into  a  more  civilized  section  of 
the  world,  from  which  he  would  write  to  his  relations. 

Old  Mrs.  Lyon  grieved  and  complained.  She  was  sure 
that  he  had  been  killed  by  the  Arabs  of  the  Desert,  or  sold 
into  slavery  by  the  Algerine  pirates. 

Drusilla  pined  in  silence,  or  if  she  opened  her  mouth  to 
speak  upon  the  subject,  it  was  to  try  to  encourage  her  old 
friend,  and  herself  also.  She  told  Mrs.  Lyon  that  Bedouin 
outrages  and  Barbary  piracies  were  horrors  belonging  to 
the  past.  She  showed  her  the  modern  map  of  Africa,  and 
pointed  out  how  few  and  far  apart  were  the  points  from 
which  letters  could  be  sent  home,  and  she  sought  to  demon 
strate  that  the  absence  of  post-offices  and  mail  routes  was 
the  all-sufficient  cause  of  the  silence  of  the  traveller  in 
Africa.  Thus  she  succeeded  in  cheering  the  old  lady;  and 
whenever  Mrs.  Lyon  felt  more  discouraged  than  usual,  she 
always  sought  Drusilla  to  be  comforted  by  her. 

General  Lyon  thought  as  the  judge  thought,  that  Alex- 


100  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

ander  being  in  Africa  could  not  write  home;  and  he  wished 
as  the  judge  did,  that  the  wanderer  might  soon  return  to 
Europe,  civilization,  and  post-offices. 

Miss  Anna  never  troubled  her  head  about  the  matter. 
She  was  his  promised  wife,  and  so  his  mother  hoped  that  he 
might  write  to  her,  if  to  no  one  else.  And  Mrs.  Lyon  often 
wrote  to  Anna,  to  ask  if  she  had  heard  from  Alick  yet. 
And  Anna  always  answered — "  I  have  not  had  a  letter  from 
him  for  ages.  He  has  forgotten  me"  And  Anna's  "  wish 
was  father  to  this  thought."  And  farthermore,  she  advised 
her  correspondent  not  to  be  uneasy.  Alick,  she  thought, 
would  come  back  safe  in  time,  no  doubt. 

People  who  are  not  anxious  can  be  so  rational ! 

But  at  length  suspense  was  ended. 

It  was  early  in  December.  The  judge  and  Mrs.  Lyon 
were  in  their  town-house,  looking  forward  to  the  annual 
Christmas  visit  of  the  general  and  Miss  Lyon,  when  the 
old  lady  received  a  letter  from  her  son.  It  was  dated  from 
Paris,  and  contained  the  joyful  news  that  he  had  returned 
from  Africa  in  perfect  health  and  spirits,  and  was  going 
over  to  Southampton  to  take  the  first  steamer  bound  for 
New  York;  and  that  soon  after  they  should  get  his  letter 
they  might  expect  him  in  person. 

Mrs.  Lyon,  after  reading  this  letter  to  her  husband,  and 
receiving  his  comment : 

"  Well,  I  told  you  so.  I  shall  be  glad  when  he  is  safe  at 
home,  though  ;  "  hurried  off  to  the  Irving  Institute,  to  tell 
the  joyful  news  to  the  only  one  from  whom  she  would  be 
sure  of  perfect  sympathy,  in  this  her  great  happiness. 

She  sent  for  Drusilla  into  the  reception  parlor,  and  told 
her  all  the  news,  and  then  read  the  letter  to  her. 

The  girl  clung  to  her  old  friend  and  wept  with  delight. 

"  This  letter  came  by  the  steamer  that  got  into  New 
York  harbor  on  Wednesday.  This  is  Friday,  and  there  is 
another  due  this  week !  He  may  be  in  it !  "  said  Mrs, 
Lyon. 


THE    GIRLS    F  i  B  s    :       x.  E  F  . 


"There  is  another  due  now,  ^and/Ke  yiil]  ^e^V,re  ;to  i/e  ;in 
it.  Think,  madam,  the  steamer  that  Tb'roughi;  thiV  letter 
should  have  been  in  last  Saturday.  The  steamer  that 
should  have  followed  it  in  order  must  be  at  her  pier  now. 
We  may  expect  Mr.  Alexander  by  every  train,"  said  Dru- 
silla,  as  soon  as  she  had  recovered  her  composure. 

"  That  is  true  !  So  we  may  !  And,  my  dear  child,  you 
always  say  something  to  comfort  or  delight  me  !  And  you 
shall  go  home  with  me  directly,  so  as  to  be  there  to  welcome 
him  when  he  arrives.  There  is  nobody  in  the  world  he 
will  be  gladder  to  see.  And  this  is  Friday  afternoon,  and 
of  course  there  are  to  be  no  lessons  Saturday  or  Sunday, 
and  so  you  can  just  as  well  as  not  go  home  with  me  and 
stay  over  until  Monday.  I  will  speak  to  the  principal 
about  it." 

And  she  rung  the  bell,  and  desired  the  parlor-maid 
who  answered  it  to  take  her  respects  to  Mrs.  Irving,  and 
say  that  she  should  be  pleased  to  see  her  in  the  parlor, 

"I  told  the  judge  to  write  to  the  general,  and  let  him 
and  Anna  know  that  Alick  was  expected  every  dajr,  so  they 
might  hasten  their  coming.  But  la  !  you  know,  my  dear, 
these  cross-country  mails  are  so  slow,  it  will  be  impossible 
for  them  to  receive  the  letter  in  time  to  get  here  to  welcome 
him  on  his  first  arrival.  However,  I  know  they  will  come 
as  soon  as  ever  they  can.  And  I  suppose  we  may  prepare 
for  a  gay  wedding  soon.  And  no  doubt  you  will  be  one  of 
the  bridesmaids.  You  are  quite  old  enough  —  nearly  thir 
teen,  and  I  like  the  bridesmaids  to  be  much  younger  than 
the  brides." 

And  so  the  delighted  old  lady  twaddled  on  until  the  door 
opened,  and  Mrs.  Irving  entered  the  room. 

Old  Mrs.  Lyoii  soon  told  her  news  and  made  her  boon. 

And  the  accomplished  principal  warmly  congratulated 
her  visitor,  and  graciously  granted  the  request. 

And  Drusilla  left  the  parlor  to  prepare  for  her  ride,  and 


10*2  Tl'&Ja     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

•i?    ren  •  irtiiiutcs  -reteired,  ready  to  accompany  Mrs.  Lyon 
home. 

They  reached  the  house  in  time  for  the  old  lady  to  hustle 
into  the  housekeeper's  room,  and  order  sundry  dishes  of 
oysters,  poultry,  game,  pastry,  cakes  and  jellies  added  to 
the  bill  of  fare  for  supper. 

"  For  you  know  he  may  arrive  by  the  nine  o'clock  train 
— that  is  the  first  one  in,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Who  may  arrive,  Madam  ?  "  inquired  the  housekeeper, 
who  had  not  heard  one  word  of  the  good  news. 

"  My  son,  to  be  sure,  you  stupid  woman — who  else  ?  " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Lyon,  delightedly.  And  then  she  poured 
forth  the  news  of  the  letter  she  had  received  from  him. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mrs.  Sterling.  And  she  turned  and  kissed 
her  daughter,  inquiring  : 

"  How  came  you  out  of  school  ?  " 

"Madame  brought  me  home  with  her  to  welcome — my 
benefactor,"  answered  Drusilla,  returning  her  mother's  kiss. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  housekeeper  a  second  time.  "  Well,  I'm 
going  to  be  very  lousy  to  get  up  all  these  dishes  in  time  for 
supper,  so  don't  interrupt  me." 

"  Can  I  not  help  you  ?  "  asked  Drusilla. 

"  No,  you  would  only  hinder  me.  I  have  no  time  to 
direct  new  hands  now,"  answered  her  mother. 

"  Come  with  me,  Drusilla,  my  dear,  and  we  will  go  and 
see  that  his  rooms  are  opened  and  aired,"  said  the  old  lady, 
beckoning  to  her  favorite. 

They  went  up  stairs  together,  attended  by  Mary,  the 
colored  housemaid.  This  girl  herself  could  have  done  the 
duty  well  enough  alone  ;  or  at  most  with  the  instruction  of 
either  Mrs.  Lyon  or  Drusilla ;  but  both  chose  to  see  to  the 
work  and  make  it  a  labor  of  love. 

The  handsome  bed-chamber,  with  dressing-room  and  bath 
attached,  was  opened  and  aired.  A  fine  fire  of  sea  coal  was 
lighted  in  the  polished  steel  grate.  His  rich  dressing  gown 


THE      GIRLS      FIRST      GRIEF.  lOo 

was  taken  out  from  the  sandal-wood  chest  into  which  it  had 
been  packed  with  sundry  other  grments  he  had  left  at 
home  :  and  it  was  shaken  well  and  hung  over  the  resting 
chair  beside  the  fire.  His  slippers  were  laid  upon  the  rug. 
A  complete  and  well-dried  change  of  clothing  was  spread 
out  upon  tl  e  bed. 

"  For  yo  i  see,  my  dear,  his  luggage  may  not  be  here  for 
hours  after  he  arrives ;  and  he  will  want  to  change  his 
dusty  travelling  suit  for  clean  clothes  as  soon  as  possible,  so 
as  iO  be  sweet  and  nice  and  comfortable  for  the  evening," 
said  Mrs.  Lyon,  as  she  laid  a  couple  of  fresh,  scented 
pocket-handkerchiefs  beside  his  other  personal  equipments. 

Then  fine  soap  and  fresh  towels  were  laid  upon  his  wash- 
stand.  And  the  Bohemian  glass  bottles  on  his  dressing 
table  were  filled — one  with  Cologne  water  and  the  other 
with  Macassar  oil.  Finally  the*  wax  candles  each  side  the 
glass  were  lighted.  And  then,  after  a  glance  around  to  see 
that  all  was  right,  Mrs.  Lyon  called  Drusilla  and  the  house 
maid  to  come  after  her,  and  left  the  apartment. 

She  passed  to  her  own  chamber  and  put  on  her  best 
black  moire  antique  dress,  and  her  finest  point  lace  cap  and 
collar. 

And  then  she  went  down  into  the  drawing-room  to  wait 
for  her  son. 

"  And  after  all,  we  have  no  assurance  that  he  will  come 
to-night.  We  do  not  even  know  that  the  steamer  is  in,  or 
if  it  is,  that  he  is  aboard,"  sighed  the  aged  mother  impa 
tiently. 

"  He  will  come  to-night,  Madam.  In  one  hour  he  will 
be  here.  I  feel  sure  that  he  will,"-  said  Drusilla,  cheerfully. 


104  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

FATAL    LOVE. 

Childhood's  lip  and  check 

Mantling  beneath  its  earnest  brow  of  thought ; 
And  in  the  flute-like  voice  murmuring  l<>w, 
Is  woman's  tenderness,  how  soon  her  woe  I 
Her  lot  is  on  thee,  silent  tears  to  weep, 
And  patient  smiles  to  wear  through  painful  hours, 
And  sumless  riches  from  affection's  deep, 
To  pour  on  broken  reeds — a  Masted  shower! 
And  to  raise  idols  and  to  find  them  clay, 
And  to  bewail  that  worship — therefore  pray. — HEMANS. 

HE  came,  even  before  lie  was  expected.  By  some  happy 
chance  the  train  was  in  half  an  hour  earlier  than  usual. 

Old  Mrs.  Lyon  had  gone  into  the  "study,"  to  have  a 
chat  with  the  judge. 

Drusilla  was  alone  in  the  dra-wing-room,  when  a  cab 
dashed  swiftly  up  to  the  street-door,  the  bell  rang  sharply, 
and  was  answered  quickly ;  and  there  was  a  pleasant  bustle 
of  arrival  in  the  hall,  and  Mr.  Alexander  burst  into  the 
drawing-room. 

He  looked  not  fatigued  or  travel-stained,  but  flushed  and 
excited  with  exercise  and  anticipation. 

With  an  irrepressible  cry  of  joy,  Drusilla  sprung  to 
meet  him,  and  then  suddenly  recoiled,  blushed  and  trem 
bled  between  delight,  timidity  and  embarrassment. 

Alexander  caught  her  hand,  gazed  in  her  face,  and  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Why — Who  are  you  ?  I  ought  to  know.  Your  face 
seems  familiar,  and  yet — DRUSILLA  !  "  he  suddenly  cried, 
as  he  recognized  and  caught  her  up  in  his  arms,  and  cov 
ered  her  face  with  kisses. 

"Welcome  !  Oh,  welcome  ! — I  am  so  glad  you  have  come 
at  last ! — I  never  was  so  happy  in  my  life  !  "  she  tried  to 
say,  as  she  dropped  her  head  upon  his  shoulder  and  wept 
with  delight. 


FATAL      LOVE.  105 

"And  my  child  is  the  first  one  to  welcome  me!"  said 
Alexander,  sitting  down  on  a  sofa  and  drawing  her  upon 
his  knee,  where  she  sat,  painfully  embarrassed  yet  unwil 
ling  to  move,  lest  she  should  wound  his  affection  on  this, 
the  first  day  of  his  return. 

"  All  are  well  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Quite  well,"  she  answered. 

"  Ay,  so  the  servant  told  me  at  the  door.  Where  is  my 
mother  ?  " 

"  Just  stepped  from  the  room.  I  expect  her  back  every 
instant." 

"  Why,  what  a  beautiful  girl  you  are  growing  to  be  !  " 
he  said,  looking  down  with  earnest  admiration  at  the  long, 
black  eye-lashes  that,  being  cast  down,  shaded  and  softened 
the  crimson  cheeks. 

"  Come  !  look  up  at  me ;  I  wish  to  see  if  your  eyes  are 
changed.  I  never  could  decide  whether  they  were  gray  or 
hazel.  Let  me  see  !  "  he  said,  putting  his  hand  under  her 
chin  to  lift  her  face. 

She  looked  up  with  a  quick  and  quickly  withdrawn 
glance,  and  her  cheeks  deepened  in  their  hue.  She  hated 
to  sit  on  his  knee,  where  years  ago  she  had  sat  a  hundred 
times,  and  she  hated  to  hurt  his  feelings  by  leaving  him  ; 
and  she  doubted  whether  she  loved  him  now  as  well  as 
she  did  then,  and  whether  her  love  was  not  turning  into 
something  very  much  like  distrust  and  dread  ;  and  she  wron- 
dered  why  this  should  be  so,  and  secretly  blamed  and  dis 
believed  in  herself. 

"  Am  I  so  altered  by  travel  that  you  don't  like  to  look  at 
at  me  ?  "  he  asked,  smilingly. 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  you  are  not  altered,  except  to  be — im 
proved,"  she  forced  herself  to  say,  with  courtesy. 

They  were  interrupted. 

"  She  is  too  great  a  girl  for  that  sort  of  thing  now,  Mr. 
Alexander,  if  you  please.  Be  so  good  as  to  put  her  down, 
sir." 


106  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

It  was  the  voice  of  the  housekeeper  that  spoke,  as  she 
entered  the  room. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Sterling,"  said  Alexander, 
laughing,  and  releasing  his  favorite  ;  "  but  it  is  hard  to 
realize  that  my  little  pet  is  growing  up." 

"  She  is  thirteen,  sir,"  cuttly  answered  the  housekeeper. 

"  Dear  me  !  Is  she  so  ?  Why  I  dandled  her  when  she 
was  a  baby  !  What  an  old  man  I  am  growing  to  be,  to  be 
sure  ! " 

"  Not  quite  old  enough  to  be  her  father,  Mr.  Alexander, 
and  therefore  too  young  to  make  a  pet  of  her." 

"  Come,  now,  this  is  a  pretty  way  to  welcome  me  home 
with  a  rebuke  the  first  thing." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  home,  sir,  however ;  and — 
Here  is  Mrs.  Lyon  ! " 

The  housekeeper  cut  her  speech  short,  as  the  old  lady 
entered  the  room. 

"  Oh,  my  son !  my  son  ! "  she  cried,  and  fell  sobbing  for 
joy  in  his  arms. 

The  housekeeper  withdrew,  taking  her  daughter  with 
her,  and  leaving  the  mother  and  son  alone  together. 

Arrived  in  her  own  room,  Mrs.  Sterling  sat  her  daughter 
down  before  her,  and  began  to  lecture  her. 

Drusilla — she  preached — must  not  allow  Mr.  Alexander 
to  pet  her  and  caress  her  now,  as  he  had  done  before  he 
went  away.  Drusilla  was  too  great  a  girl  now,  for  that  sort 
of  thing.  Truly,  she  was  not  a  woman  yet ;  but  she  was 
growing  into  one,  and  so  the  familiarities  that  were  quite 
innocent  when  she  was  a  child,  would  be  extremely  impro 
per  now  that  she  was  almost  a  young  woman.  Such  was 
the  purport  of  the  sermon. 

Drusilla  trembled  excessively,  and  wept  a  little  over  this 
exordium.  In  her  heart  she  agreed  with  it,  but  grieved 
over  it. 

It  was  just  such  a  lecture  as  any  prudent  mother   might 


FATAL      LOVE.  107 

have  given  her  growing  daughter  under  the  circumstances. 
But  Drusilla,  while  acquiescing  in  its  propriety,  was  shocked 
by  its  plainness. 

Their  interview  was  interrupted  hy  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
Lyon,  who  came  herself  in  search  of  her  favorite. 

"  Where  are  you,  Drusilla,  my  dear  ?  Come  and  thank 
your  benefactor  for  all  that  he  has  done  for  you,  and  show 
him  how  much  you  have  profited  by  his  kindness,"  said  the 
old  lady,  as  she  came  in. 

Blushing  and  embarrassed,  the  girl  followed  the  lady  to 
the  drawing-room. 

Mr.  Alexander  had  changed  his  travelling  suit  for  an  eve 
ning  dress,  and  was  sitting  talking  to  Judge  Lyon  about  the 
voyage  home. 

Drusilla,  at  a  sign  from  Mrs.  Lyon,  seated  herself  near 
the  talkers. 

"  I  want  you  to  see  how  much  your  protegee  has  im 
proved,  Alick,"  said  Alick's  mother. 

"  Oh,  I  have  seen,  Madam,"  answered  Alexander  with  a 
smile. 

"After  supper  I  want  her  to  sing  and  play  for  you.  She 
has  a  wonderful  proficiency  in  music,"  said  Mrs.  Lyon. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  a  specimen  of  her  skill, 
mother,"  said  the  young  man,  turning  to  his  father,  and 
taking  up  the  thread  of  the  broken  conversation,  in  order 
to  relieve  Drusilla,  who  was  embarrassed  by  all  this  notice. 

What  between  her  own  half-consciousness  and  her 
mother's  severe  lecture,  Drusilla  was  perplexed  and  dis 
tressed.  The  great  pleasure  she  had  anticipated  from  the 
arrival  of  Alexander  was  mixed  with  strange  pain — a  pain 
not  the  less  poignant  because  she  could  not  understand  it. 
To  become  the  cold  and  formal  stranger  to  him  that  her 
mother  wished  her  to  be,  seemed  impossible  ;  while  to  con 
tinue  the  familiar  child-pet  that  she  had  hitherto  been  to 
him  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  If  he  had  only  been  her 


108  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

brother,  so  that  she  might  have  had  a  right  to  his  caresses, 
how  happy  she  could  have  been,  she  dared  to  think. 

But  as  it  was,  she  could  scarcely  venture  to  glance  at 
him,  because  each  glance  thrilled  her  soul  with  such 
strange,  wild  emotion,  half  delight,  half  dread.  Ah, 
friends,  she  was  a  child  of  the  sun,  fervent,  earnest, 
devoted  in  all  her  ardent  soul.  She  was  already,  all  un 
known  to  herself,  deeply  and  passionately  attached  to  Alex 
ander  Lyon.  The  budding  love  of  years  had  this  evening 
burst  into  full  bloom.  And  yet  it  was  even  more  religion 
than  love,  and  more  worship  than  passion. 

Supper  was  announced  and  every  one  arose. 

"  Come,  Drusilla,  you  are  the  only  young  lady  present," 
said  Alexander,  taking  her  hand  to  lead  her  in  to  supper. 

He  felt  that  small  hand  flutter  and  throb  within  his  own 
like  the  heart  of  a  captured  bird.  He  turned  s-uddenly  and 
looked  at  her.  Her  eyes  were  cast  down,  and  her  cheeks 
were  crimson.  He  gazed  on  her  for  a  moment  in.  grave 
silence,  and  then  slightly  frowning,  led  her  on  into  the  din 
ing  room,  and  placed  her  in  a  chair  at  the  table.  He  paid 
her  all  due  attention  at  the  supper,  but  with  a  certain 
reserve  that  he  had  never  used  with  her  before. 

The  evening  meal  was,  notwithstanding  this,  a  very 
happy  one. 

The  judge  chatted  gaily  with  his  restored  son,  encourag 
ing  him  to  talk  of  his  wanderings  in  the  old  world. 

The  old  lady  listened  with  pleased  attention,  and  only 
once  in  a  while  broke  her  silence  to  ask  whether  he  had 
been  presented  to  all  the  queens  in  Europe,  and  which  was 
the  most  beautiful  woman  among  them,  or  some  such  ques 
tion  as  that. 

Her  son  answered  that  he  saw  no  woman  in  Europe  pret- 
teir  than  some  he  found  at  home  ;  and  he  glanced  at  Dru 
silla  with  a  smile. 

The  girl   beaming  in  the  light  of  his  countenance,  and 


FATAL     LOVE.  109 

drinking  in  the  music  of  his  voice  was  intensely  happy  and 
— vaguely  wretched. 

When  supper  was  over  they  went  back  into  the  drawing- 
room,  and  Mrs.  Lyon  made  Drusilla  sit  down  to  the  piano 
forte  and  play  and  sing  for  Alexander. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  the  proposition,  but  politely 
acquiesced  and  prepared  to  be  bored.  Alexander  was  a 
connoisseur  in  music,  and  he  had  heard  the  very  best 
singers  of  the  day.  Consequently  he  had  little  patience 
with  the  crude  efforts  of  young  misses. 

She,  Drusilla,  began  with  a  very  simple  song — chosen  in 
compliment  to  the  newly-arrived  son : 

"  Home  again  !  home  again  !  from  a  foreign  shore, 
And  oh,  it  fills  iny  soul  with  joy  to  meet  my  friends  once  more." 

At  first  her  voice  trembled  slightly ;  but  the  tremor  only 
added  to  its  pathos;  and  as  she  went  on  it  gained  strength 
and  volume.  She  sang  with  much  feeling  and  expression. 
And  Alexander  was  surprised,  and  pleased  and  profoundly 
affected. 

"  My  child,  you  sing  well  ;  I  tell  you  so,  who  have  heard 
the  best  singers  in  the  world.  Your  voice  has  reached  the 
depths  of  my  heart,  Drusilla,  and  awakened  it  to  a  deeper 
consciousness  of  its  joy  in  home-coming,"  he  whispered  as 
she  finished  her  song. 

She  bowed  her  head,  partly  in  meek  acknowldgment 
of  this  praise,  and  partly  to  conceal  the  blush  that  over 
spread  her  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  that  little  song  is  very  pretty  and  very  appropriate, 
but  it  is  nothing  to  what  she  can  do.  Sing  Casta  Diva,  my 
dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lyon. 

Drusilla  raised  an  imploring  glance  to  the  old  lady's  face, 
but  met  with  no  reprieve  there. 

"Come,  my  dear  !  the  Casta  Diva  !"  she  repeated. 

With  a  deprecating  look  at  Alexander  the  girl  took  down 


110  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

another  volume  of  music,  and  turned  to  the  selections  from 
Norm  a.  The  piece  chosen  by  Mrs.  Lyon  was  a  great  trial 
to  any  immature  and  half-cultivated  voice  like  Drusilla's, 
however  excellent  the  quality  of  that  voice  might  naturally 
be  ;  and  Drusilla  knew  this,  and  thence  her  imploring  and 
deprecating  glances. 

"  You  are  too  exacting,  mother.  She  cannot  sing  that ; 
I  do  not  think  any  woman  under  thirty  years  old  could, 
unless  she  had  had  a  very  remarkable  and  precocious  experi 
ence,"  said  Alexander,  laughing. 

"  Ay,  you  say  that  because  you  know  nothing  of  the  intu 
itions  of  genius.  You  must  hear  your  protegee  sing,  and 
you  will  understand  better,"  said  Mrs.  Lyon. 

Thus  urged  on,  Drusilla  began  to  sing.  Her  voice  arose 
tremulously,  as  at  first,  like  a  young  bird  fluttering  out  of 
its  nest,  but  then  it  soared  and  swelled,  gaining  power  and 
volume,  until  it  filled  all  the  air  with  the  music  of  that 
wild,  impassioned,  agonized,  terrible  invocation  and  appeal. 

Certainly  Drusilla  had  never  known  remorse,  anguish  or 
despair,  yet  all  these  wailed  forth  in  her  soul-thrilling 
tones. 

She  ceased,  and  dropped  her  head,  exhausted,  on  her 
book. 

Alexander  made  no  comment,  but  took  her  hand  and  led 
her  from  the  instrument,  and  then  went  and  resolutely  shut 
it  down. 

"There!  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  demanded  the 
old  lady,  triumphantly. 

"I  will  tell  you  some  other  time,"  said  Alexander,  and  he 
took  and  lighted  a  bedroom  candle,  and  put  it  into  Drusilla's 
hand,  and  said: 

"  Good-night !  go  to  bed,  my  child." 

Drusilla  took  the  light  and  turned  to  the  old  lady,  and 
held  up  her  face  for  a  kiss. 

And  Mrs.  Lyon  stooped  and  touched  her  lips,  saying, 
with  a  smile  : 


FATAL      LOVE.  HI 

"  I  suppose  I  may  kiss  you  now." 

Alexander  held  the  door  open  until  the  girl  had  passed 
out,  and  then  he  shut  it  after  her  and  returned  to  his  seat. 

"  Do  you  know,  Alick,  why  I  said  to  Drusilla  just  now, 
'  I  suppose  I  may  kiss  you  now  ?  ' " 

"No,  mother." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you.  You  remember  how  you  kissed  her 
when  you  went  away  ?  " 

« I  do." 

"  Ah,  Alick  !  your  departure  nearly  killed  your  poor  little 
pet.  If  you  had  "been  her  own  father,  she  could  not  have 
grieved  after  you  more  than  she  did.  She  had  a  low  fever, 
and  after  she  got  well  she  would  not  let  any  one  kiss  her. 
She  said  that  you  had  kissed  her  last,  and  that  no  one  else 
should  touch  her  lips  until  you  should  return  and  kiss  her 
again." 

"  Did  she  now,  really,"  exclaimed  Alexander,  with  emo 
tion. 

"  She  did  indeed,  and  she  kept  her  word." 

Alexander  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  spoke  : 

"  Mother ! " 

«  Eh  ! " 

"  Tell  her  teachers  that  I  do  not  wish  and  will  not  per 
mit,  Drusilla  to  learn  opera  music  or  love  songs.  Let  her 
confine  herself  to  sacred  music  only." 

"  But  Alick,  my  son,  how  absurd !  I  am  particular 
enough,  the  dear  knows,  but  I  don't  see  any  harm  in  good 
opera  music.  All  young  ladies  learn  it,  and  you  desired 
that  she  should  learn  all  that  young  ladies  do." 

"I  was  hasty;  and  now  I  say  that  she  must  give  up 
opera  music  and  such  like.  Let  her  learn  and  practice 
sacred  music  to  her  heart's  content  and  her  soul's  salvation. 
Let  music  be  the  means,  not  of  drawing  her  affections 
down  to  earthly  follies,  but  of  fixing  them  more  steadfastly 
upon  heavenly  things." 


112  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Alick,  you  do  astonish  me." 

"  I  astonish  myself,  sometimes." 

"  Pray  have  you  got  religion,  as  the  phrase  goes  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  wish  to  the  Lord  I  had.  But  I  want  her  to 
have  it.  Mother ! "  he  said,  with  sudden  energy,  going 
towards  the  old  lady,  "you  don't  know  how  I  love  that 
child ;  you  can't  feel  how  I  love  her — how  near  and  dear 
she  seems  to  me — how  near  and  dear  she  has  always  seemed 
since  I  first  looked  into  her  soft,  sweet,  patient  eyes." 

"  I  believe  you  love  her  as  much  as  if  you  were  her 
father." 

"  Her  father !  well,  I  suppose  my  affection  for  her  has 
something  paternal  in  it,  but  fathers  seldom  love  their 
daughters  as  I  love  her.  Instance  :  Fathers  are  willing  to 
give  their  daughters  away  in  marriage,  but  I  am  very  sure 
that  I  would  rather  see  Drusilla  dead  than  married." 

The  old  lady  stared  at  the  young  man,  utterly  unable  to 
comprehend  him.  He  continued  : 

"  Mother,  I  tremble  for  that  child.  I  trembled  when  I 
heard  her  sing  that  Casta  Diva  as  I  never  heard  a  good  or 
happy  woman  sing  it.  There  could  not  have  been  memory 
— there  must  have  been  prophecy  in  those  wild,  despairing 
wails." 

"  There  was  intuition,  and  nothing  more.  But  you  have 
been  to  Germany,  and  I  suppose  you  have  grown  mystical," 
said  Mrs.  Lyon. 

"  By  which  you  mean  mad.  Very  likely.  Perhaps  my 
previsions  are  illusions  :  but  mother,  I  nevertheless  must 
insist  that  Drusilla  shall  drop  opera  and  take  up  church 
music.  Let  her  teachers  know." 

"  Certainly,  Alick.  And  now  light  my  candle  and  wake 
up  your  father  ;  it  is  bed  time." 

Alexander    lighted    and    handed  the  wax  taper  to  his 
mother,  and  then  gently  roused  his  father,  who  had  been 
comfortably  napping  in  his  easy  chair. 
And  the  trio  F.ppnratccl  and  went  to  rest. 


BRIDAL     FAVORS.  113 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BRIDAL    FAVORS. 

Love  was  to  her  impassioned  soul, 

Not  as  to  others,  a  mere  part 

Of  her  existence,  but  the  whole, — 

The  very  life-breath  of  her  heart. — MOOKE. 
The  world  was  not  for  her,  nor  the  world's  art 
For  one  as  passionate  as  Sappho's  heart. 
Love  was  born  with  her,  in  her,  so  intense, 
It  was  her  very  spirit,  not  a  sense. — BYRON. 

ON  Saturday  morning  Alexander  walked  out  to  renew  hig 
acquaintance  with  his  native  city. 

Mrs.  Lyon  said  to  her  pet : 

"  If  you  know  any  very  fine  sacred  music,  my  dear,  I 
wish  you  would  select  some  pieces  and  practice  them  this 
forenoon,  so  as  to  be  able  to  execute  them  well  this  evening 
for  Alexander." 

And  Drusilla,  glad  to  have  her  morning's  work  laid  out, 
sat  down  to  go  over  portions  of  Handel's  Messiah. 

Alexander  came  home  to  luncheon,  and  in  the  afternoon 
attended  his  mother  and  Drusilla  for  a  drive. 

They  dined  and  tea'd  together,  and  adjourned  to  the 
drawing-room,  where,  at  Mrs.  Lyon's  command,  Drusilla 
sat  down  to  the  piano  and  sang  to  her  own  accompaniment 
on  the  instrument  the  all  glorious  "  Te  Deum." 

Alexander  was  enraptured.  It  is  scarcely  too  much  to 
say  that  he  was  transported — listening  to  the  heavenly 
notes  of  her  voice  and  gazing  on  the  inspired  beauty  of  her 
face.  As  for  her  she  seemed  all  unconscious  of  everything 
around  her,  as  though  her  soul  were  winging  its  way  to 
Heaven  in  those  strains  of  divine  music. 

When  the  last  notes  of  her  voice  died  away,  there  was 
silence  in  the  room  for  some    moments.      It   was    gently 
broken  by  Alexander  murmuring  in  her  ear : 
7 


114  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  My  child,  sacred  music  is  your  forte.  Consecrate  your 
glorious  gift  to  the  worship  of  the  Most  High." 

Drusilla  bowed  her  head  ;  and  after  a  few  moments  said  : 

"  They  want  me  to  sing  in  the  choir  of  St.  John's  church. 
Would  you  like  me  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  My  child,  that  must  be  as  you  please.  Would  you  like 
it  ?  » 

"  Indeed  I  do  not  know  until  I  hear  your  will,"  she  mur 
mured. 

"  Then  I  will  you  to  sing  there,"  he  smiled. 

"  And  I  am  sure  I  shall  like  it,"  she  said.  "  And  now 
shall  I  sing  the  Hallelujah  for  you,  and  will  you  help  me  ? 
There  should  be  four  voices,  though." 

"  You  shall  sing  no  more  to-night,  my  bird ;  but  come  to 
the  centre  table,  where  I  have  some  gleanings  of  travel  to 
show  you." 

Alexander's  servant  had  in  fact  just  placed  upon  the  ta 
ble  a  large  portfolio  containing  interesting  views  of  natural 
scenery  and  of  works  of  art,  collected  in  their  travels.  And 
in  examining  these  the  remainder  of  the  evening  passed. 

On  Sunday  all  the  family  went  to  St.  John's  church  to 
gether.  But  as  Drusilla  was  not  yet  a  member  of  the  choir 
she  sat  in  the  Lyons'  pew. 

On  Monday  morning,  Mr.  Alexander  himself  took  his 
protegee  back  to  her  school.  He  was  known  there  as  a 
"  patron,"  and  his  request  that  his  young  ward,  Miss  Ster 
ling,  should  confine  her  musical  studies  to  the  sacred  branch 
of  the  art,  met  with  a  prompt  acquiescence. 

Leaving  Drusilla  under  the  charge  of  her  teachers,  he  re 
turned  to  his  home  to  find  it  very  dreary  in  the  absence  of 
his  «  child." 

"  A  letter  from  your  uncle,  the  general,"  said  Mrs.  Lyon, 
as  she  received  him  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  He  says  that  Anna  declines  to  hasten  her  visit  upon 
'any  gentleman's  account;'  and  so  they  will  not  be  with 
us  before  Christmas  eve." 


BRIDAL     FAVORS.  115 

"  Humph !  "  said  Mr.  Alexander,  seating  himself  with 
much  indifference. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  blame  her.  Certainly  it  is 
not  her  place  to  run  after  you,  Alick,  even  if  she  is  your 
promised  bride.  She  must  stand  upon  her  dignity,  I  sup 
pose." 

"  Ah,  well,  just  as  she  pleases ;  but  I  cannot  but  com 
pare  her  with  one  who  consults  her  heart  and  not  her  dig 
nity  where  I  am  concerned." 

"  Don't  be  a  coxcomb,  Alick,  my  dear.  You  mean  little 
Drusa?  She's  a  child  and  has  everything  to  learn  yet  of 
proper  self-respect  in  her  association  with  gentlemen.  But 
we  are  not  talking  of  her  just  now.  I  hate  to  send  you 
from  me,  Alick  ;  but  I  really  do  think  you  are  bound  to 
pay  Anna  the  respect  of  going  to  Old  Lyon  Hall.  I 
would  go  myself,  if  I  felt  equal  to  the  journey,  and  take 
you  as  an  escort ;  but  as  I  am,  I  must  let  you  go  alone. 
There  is  a  coach  leaves  to-morrow  at  seven  in  the  morning. 
What  do  you  think  of  taking  a  place  in  it  ?  " 

"  I  would  as  lief  as  not." 

"  Upon  my  word !  If  Anna  is  as  indifferent  in  this 
matter  as  you  are,  I  think  it  is  a  pity  you  two  were  ever 
betrothed,"  said  the  old  lady,  looking  over  the  tops  of  her 
spectacles. 

Alexander  laughed. 

"  Our  betrothal  is  such  an  old  story,  mother,  and  we  are 
used  to  it.  Besides  it  rests  upon  such  a  solid  foundation — 
having  one  foot  upon  Crowood  and  the  other  on  Old  Lyon 
Manor — that  we  feel  secure  in  it.  And  wherever  there  is 
security  there  must  be  indifference." 

"  Where  did  ^you  learn  to  sneer,  Alick  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sneering.  Heaven  forbid.  My  Cousin  Anna 
is  a  beautiful  and  accomplished  young  lady,  for  whom  I  have 
great  respect  and  esfeem.  When  I  see  her  I  shall  press 
her  to  name  an  early  da}'-  for  the  nuptials.  And  no  doubt 
we  shall  get  along  as  well  as  most  people." 


116  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES 

"Humph  !  when  I  was  young  lovers  were  in  love.  I  sup 
pose  you  have  'changed  all  that  now.'  Pray,  Alick,  did  you 
see  any  lady  in  Europe  whom  you  very  much  admired  ?  " 

Alexander  laughed. 

"  Why,  of  course,  mother !  Scores  and  scores  !  But 
they  are  last  summer's  leaves  and  blossoms,  dispersed  and 
forgotten.  At  least  I  shall  bring  to  my  bride  a  heart 
single  to  her  service.  For  if  I  am  not  madly  in  love 
with  Anna,  I  am  not  in  love  with  any  one  else,  unless 
you  call  my  fatherly  fondness  for  little  Drusilla — 

"  Nonsense  ! ".  shortly  interrupted  the  old  lady — "  that 
child  !  Don't  be  profane,  Alick.  Have  some  reverence  for 
innocence  like  hers." 

Mr.  Alexander  fidgetted  and  made  no  answer. 

"  But  I  didn't  mean  to  scold  you,  dear  ;  only  I  would 
have  you  respect  holy  childhood,  and  let  a  girl  be  a  child  as 
long  as  possible.  I  hope  and  believe  that  you  and  Anna 
will  make  a  happy  couple.  When  you  see  her,  of  course 
you  will  say  everything  that  is  kind  to  her  from  me  ;  and 
be  sure  you  cannot  say  too  much.  You  will  either  prevail 
on  them  to  come  immediately  to  us,  or  you  will  stay  with 
them  until  they  are  ready  to  do  so,"  said  Mrs.  Lyon. 

Alexander  agreed  to  everything  she  proposed. 

And  then  their  interview  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  some  visitors. 

The  next  morning  Alexander  went  up  the  country  to  old 
Lyon  Hall,  where  he  used  his  powers  of  persuasion  to  such 
good  purpose  as  to  prevail  on  Miss  Anna,  and  of  course  on 
her  grandfather,  to  return  with  him  immediately  to  Rich 
mond. 

"  If  h-e  will  not  go  back  with  us,  we  must  go  with  hiin,  I 
suppose,  grandpa.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  deprive  Aunt 
Lyon  of  her  son's  society  by  keeping  him  here,  so  soon  after 
his  arrival  from  foreign  parts,"  said  Miss  Anna,  expressing 
a  sentiment  with  which  the  old  gentleman  sincerely  sympa 
thized. 


BRIDAL      FAVORS.  117 

So  the  whole  party  reached  the  city  by  the  following 
Saturday. 

The  Christmas  holidays  were  spent  as  merrily  as  ever  be 
fore.  Drusilla  was  brought  from  school  to  join  in  the  fes 
tivities  of  the  season,  and  she  was  loaded  with  presents  and 
caresses. 

Mr.  Richard  Hammond  also  came,  and  was  quite  as  much 
up  to  every  species  of  fun  and  frolic  as  ever  he  had  been  in 
his  earlier  boyhood. 

He  was  very  much  with  Anna,  but  neither  her  lover  nor 
her  relations  seemed  to  take  any  exception  to  his  attendance. 
She  was  so  nearly  married  now  that  there  could  be  no  dan 
ger  of  his  supplanting  her  betrothed,  and  besides,  he  was 
her  near  cousin,  poor  fellow,  they  argued,  and  so  Mr.  Dick 
was  allowed  to  dance  attendance  upon  Miss  Anna,  while 
Mr.  Alexander  amused  and  interested  himself  in  his 
"  child." 

The  wedding  of  the  affianced  pair  was  fixed  to  take  place 
early  in  the  new  year,  at  Old  Lyon  Hall,  whither  the  whole 
of  both  familes  would  meet  to  do  honor  to  the  nuptials. 

11  Anna,  you  have  not  invited  me  to  the  wedding,"  said 
Dick  one  day,  as  they  stood  together  in  the  recess  of  the 
bay  window. 

"  Well,  I  invite  you  now,  Dick  !  Come  and  be  Alick's 
best  man." 

"  I'd  see  him  drowned  first,  dash  him  !  I'd  sooner  be  his 
headsman  !  "  said  the  young  man,  grinding  his  teeth. 

"  Then  why  do  you  wish  to  come  to  his  wedding  ? "' 
asked  Anna,  elevating  her  eyebrows. 

"  Did  I  say  I  '  wished '  it  ?  Don't  jump  to  conclusions, 
Anna.  I  don't  wish  it.  I  merely  reminded  you  that  I  was 
not  invited.  You  remember  the  fairy  that  was  not  invited 
to  the  princess's  christening  ?  She  came  all  the  same,  but 
her  christening  gift  proved  no  blessing.  I  shall  go  to  your 
wedding,  Anna,  but  the  wedding  present  that  I  shall  lay 


118  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

upon  your  table  will  be  no  peace-offering,"  lie  whispered 
between  his  white  lips. 

She  turned  pale,  and  then  red,  and  then  she  laughed  to 
conceal  her  agitation,  as  she  answered : 

"  Don't  be  melo-dramatic,  whatever  you  are.  None  but 
stage-struck  apprentices  ever  are  so.  All  that  sort  of  thing 
is  obsolete.  If  a  young  man  is  crossed  in  love,  he  had  bet 
ter  marry  for  money.  Alick  and  I  must  marry  and  settle 
like  other  sensible  people.  He  will  devote  himself  to  im 
proving  the  race  of  oxen  and  the  growth  of  corn,  and 
amuse  his  leisure  with  politics  j  I  shall  draw  prizes  for 
poultry,  butter,  and  perhaps  flowers.  Life  is  prose,  not 
poetry,  Dick." 

"  Look  at  that  child.  She  does  not  think  as  you  do," 
said  Richard,  bitterly. 

Anna  raised  her  eyes  and  saw,  at  the  opposite  end  of  the 
room,  in  a  recess  filled  with  row  above  row  of  blooming 
flowers,  this  group : 

Alexander  was  reclining  in  an  easy  chair,  holding  in  his 
right  hand  a  small  volume,  from  which  he  was  reading  in  a 
subdued  voice,  and  encircling  with  his  left  arm  the  shoulders 
of  his  "  child,"  who  was  sitting  on  a  low  seat  beside  him. 
His  eyes  were  on  his  book,  but  hers  were  on  him.  Forget 
ting  her  timidity,  forgetting  herself,  her  inspired  face  was 
raised  to  his,  with  glowing  crimson  lips  apart,  and  slender 
black  eyebrows  arched,  and  large,  starry  eyes  fixed  on  him, 
as  she  listened  breathlessly  to  his  words.  He  finished  a 
sentence,  and  then  turned  to  speak  to  her.  And  instantly 
her  eyes  fell,  and  her  color  rose  even  to  her  brows. 

"  Yes,  I  see  ;  if  she  were  a  little  older,  or  I  a  little  more 
in  love,  I  should  be  jealous,"  thought  Anna  within  herself. 
But  she  said  nothing. 

At  the  end  of  Christmas  holidays  Drusilla  was  sent  back 
to  school. 

Anna,  under  the  charge  of  old  Mrs.  Lyon,  did  a  vast  deal 


BRIDAL     FAVORS.  119 

of  shopping  in  the  city,  besides  sending  to  New  York  for 
articles  that  could  not  be  procured  in  Richmond. 

When  all  this  was  done,  she  returned  with  her  grand 
father  to  Old  Lyoii  Hall,  where  they  were  soon  to  be  joined 
by  the  judge  and  Mrs.  Lyon,  and  Mr.  Alexander,  for  the 
wedding. 

The  day  after  the  general  and  his  grand-daughter  left, 
Mrs.  Lyon  said  to  Mr.  Alexander  : 

"  Alick,  Anna  wishes  little  Drusilla  to  be  her  sixth 
bridesmaid." 

"  I  object  to  that.  The  girl  is  too  young  to  have  marry 
ing  and  giving  in  marriage  running  in  her  head." 

"  Nonsense,  Alick,  you  can't  keep  this  affair  out ;  of 
course  she  knows  you  and  Anna  are  about  to  be  married." 

"  Of  course  she  does,  for  she  has  heard  nothing  else 
talked  of  for  a  month  past,"  said  Alexander,  in  a  tone  of 
vexation. 

"  Then  let  her  be  Anna's  sixth  bridesmaid." 

"  No,  mother,  if  you  please.  It  would  take  her  from  her 
studies." 

"  But,  Alexander,  you  forget.  She  must  be  at  the  wed 
ding  any  way,  for  it  would  never  do  to  slight  the  child  by 
omitting  to  take  her  to  it." 

"  I  do  not  see  that.  Let  her  know  that  it  is  by  my  will 
that  she  is  to  be  left  at  school,  and  she  will  easily  submit 
to  the  disappointment." 

"  Well,  Alick,  I  think  that  would  be  cruel." 

'•'But  I  know  it  to  be  necessary,  for  her  own  sake, 
mother." 

The  next  morning  the  father,  mother  and  son,  attended 
by  their  men  and  maid  servants,  set  out  in  their  travelling 
carriage  for  Old  Lyon  Hall. 

Travelling  by  easy  stages,  and  stopping  at  all  the  most 
comfortable  inns  on  the  road,  to  eat  or  sleep,  they  at  length 
arrived  safely  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  at  the  old 
mansion. 


120  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

The  house  was  full  of  company,  and  all  alight  from  attic 
to  basement.  So  many  young  friends  of  the  bride  were 
staying  with  her  for  the  wedding. 

Our  city  party  was  very  cordially  received.  Anna  her 
self  took  the  old  lady  to  her  room,  and  waited  on  her  in 
person.  But — 

"  Where  is  Drusilla  ?  "  was  one  of  the  first  questions  she 
asked  of  Alexander. 

"  At  school.  Where  is  Dick  ? "  he  answered  and  re 
torted. 

"  At  his  office  in  the  city,  I  suppose.  But — Drusilla ! 
why  is  she  not  here  ?  " 

"  I  would  not  let  her  come.  But — Dick !  why  is  he  not 
here  ?  " 

"  I  would  not  let  him  come.  And — Drusilla  was  to  have 
been  my  bridesmaid  !  n 

"  And — Dick  was  to  have  been  my  groomsman  !  " 

And  here  the  young  cousins  looked  in  each  other's  faces 
and  laughed. 

It  was  a  merry  party  that  gathered  in  the  drawing-room 
that  evening.  Young  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  grouped 
in  small  circles  around  various  tables,  engaged  in  diverting 
parlor  games  of  one  sort  or  another. 

The  general  and  the  old  lady  were  playing  chess  to 
gether. 

The  chief  justice,  only,  complaining  of  cold  and  fatigue, 
excused  himself  from  joining  in  any  game,  though  he  de 
clined  to  go  to  bed,  and  sat  in  the  most  comfortable  arm-chair 
in  the  warmest  corner  of  the  fireplace,  sipping  hot  punch 
from  a  glass  on  a  stand  at  his  elbow. 

When  his  moderate  glass  was  empty  he  spread  his  white 
handkerchief  over  his  face,  and  lay  back  in  his  chair  and 
dozed,  undisturbed  by  all  the  musical  chatter  and  silvery 
laughter  around  him. 

At  ten  o'clock  there  was  a  tray  of  refreshments  brought 


BRIDAL     FAVORS.  121 

in,  and  handed  first  to  the  old  lady,  who  was  served  by  the 
general. 

Next  the  tray  was  handed  to  the  judge.  The  servant 
who  carried  it  stood  in  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  : 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  his  honor  is  asleep." 

Mrs.  Lyon  immediately  turned  and  playfully  whisked  the 
handkerchief  from  her  husband's  head  and  asked  him  what 
he  meant  by  being  so  rude  as  to  fall  asleep. 

There  was  no  response  by  word  or  motion. 

She  bent  forward  and  looked  in  his  face,  and  then 
screamed. 

Her  scream  brought  all  the  company  in  alarm  around 
her.  Her  hand  was  on  the  old  man's  pulse,  and  her  face 
was  pale  and  wild  with  fright. 

General  Lyon  gently  replaced  her  in  her  seat,  and  went 
back  to  the  judge. 

And  in  one  moment  more  it  was  ascertained  beyond  a 
doubt  that  Chief  Justice  Lyon  was  dead. 

You  may  imagine  what  a  terrible  shock  this  sudden 
death  gave.  How  the  wedding-party  broke  up  in  confusion 
and  dispersed  in  sadness;  how  the  unavailing  skill  of  the 
family  physician  was  called  in,  to  do  no  more  than  pronounce 
upon  the  cause  of  death — apoplexy ;  how  the  funeral  was 
solemnized  in  his  own  old  ancestral  halls ;  and  how  his 
body  was  laid  at  last  in  the  family  vault  at  old  Lyon  Hall. 

Drnsilla,  who  had  not  been  permitted  to  attend  the  wed 
ding,  had  been  sent  for  to  come  to  the  funeral.  She  came, 
sorrowing  bitterly  over  the  sudden  death  of  one  who  had 
been  the  kindest  old  friend  to  her. 

She  did  not  go  back  again  to  school.  Mrs.  Lyon,  over 
whelmed  by  the  loss  of  the  life-partner  with  whom  she  had 
lived  so  long,  needed  constant  and  affectionate  attention, 
and  entreated  that  her  favorite  should  be  left  with  her. 

Under  the  circumstances  of  her  bereavement  Alexander 
could  refuse  his  mother  nothing.  So  Drusilla  remained  in 
attendance  upon  her  benefactress. 


122  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

The  widow,  exhausted  by  grief  and  unable  to  travel^ 
staid  with  the  general  and  his  grand-daughter  all  the 
winter. 

Alexander,  engaged  in  setting  his  late  father's  family 
affairs  in  order,  preparatory  to  administering  on  his  estate, 
went  backwards  and  forwards  between  Richmond  and  Old 
L}ron  Hall. 

Late  in  the  following  spring  Mrs.  Lyon  went  to  Cro- 
wood,  taking  Drusilla  with  her. 

The  first  few  days  at  the  old  country-seat,  where  she  had 
passed  so  many  tranquil,  happy  seasons  with  her  lost 
husband,  renewed  all  her  grief. 

But  Drusilla,  guided  by  a  happy  instinct,  drew  her  out 
among  her  flowers,  and  fowls,  and  cows  and  other  pets  and 
hobbies. 

Most  fortunately,  I  say,  all  these  had  been  grossly 
neglected  during  her  absence,  as  though  under  the  circum 
stances  of  her  bereavement,  her  annual  visit  was  not  ex 
pected.  And  the  old  lady,  the  mourning  widow,  seeing  the 
condition  of  her  favorites,  ceased  to  weep  like  Niobe,  and 
began  to  scold  like  Xantippe. 

And  of  course  she  got  better  directly. 

It  took  her  and  her  handmaid  Drusilla,  assisted  by  a  staff 
of  men  and  maids,  the  whole  summer  to  bring  flowers, 
poultry  and  cows  up  to  the  old  lady's  standard  of  perfection. 
And  by  the  time  this  was  done  her  health  and  cheerfulness 
returned. 

There  was  nothing,  now  that  the  chief  justice  was  off  the 
bench  forever,  to  call  her  to  the  city.  So  she  determined  to 
make  Crowood  her  permanent  residence.  With  this  view 
she  wrote  to  the  housekeeper,  who  had  remained  in  charge 
of  the  city  house,  to  pack  up  her  personal  effects  and  for 
ward  them  to  Crowood,  and  then  to  come  down  herself,  as 
the  house  was  to  be  put  into  the  hands  of  architects,  deco 
rators,  and  upholsterers,  to  be  thoroughly  renovated  for  the 
use  of  the  young  pair,  whose  wedding-day  was  again  fixed. 


BRIDAL     FAVOBS.  123 

Mrs.  Lyon  was  the  more  urgent  for  her  housekeeper  to 
hasten  to  Crowood,  because  there  was  a  contagious  fever  of 
a  very  malignant  type  raging  in  Richmond. 

In  answer  to  her  letters,  Mrs.  Sterling  sent  down,  by  a 
wagon  express,  about  seventy  trunks,  boxes  and  bundles, 
and  within  a  week  followed  them. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  arrived,  Sterling.  I  had  not 
an  easy  hour  while  you  remained  in  the  city,  exposed  to 
that  terrible  fever.  And  Drusilla  would  have  been  as 
anxious  as  I  was  if  she  had  known  the  danger ;  but  I  kept 
it  concealed  from  her.  It  was  of  no  use  to  trouble  the 
child,"  Mrs.  Lyon  said,  in  welcoming  her  housekeeper. 

But  the  poor  old  lady  of  Crowood  congratulated  herself 
before  the  danger  was  over. 

Apparently,  Mrs.  Sterling  had  brought  down  the  seeds  of 
fever  in  her  system,  for  the  day  after  her  arrival  she  was 
taken  with  a  shivering  fit,  followed  by  a  glow  of  heat,  head 
ache,  nausea  and  prostration,  and  in  twenty-four  hours  she 
was  in  a  raging  fever  and  delirium. 

The  old  lady  was  not  a  coward  j  she  was  a  conscientious 
Christian.  Now  that  the  fever  had  come,  she  faced  it.  She 
sent  for  the  country  doctor,  and  instead  of  trusting  the  sick 
woman  to  the  care  of  servants,  she,  with  Drusilla's  assist 
ance,  nursed  the  patient  in  person.  This  course  of  conduct 
was  more  magnanimous  than  prudent. 

Mrs.  Sterling,  "  tough  as  a  pine  knot,  and  with  no  more 
nerves  than  it,"  as  the  country  doctor  said,  survived  the 
fever  and  got  up,  though  with  a  broken  constitution,  for  all 
those  whom  that  dreadful  pestilence  spared  to  life  it  ruined 
in  health. 

But  Mrs.  Lyon  contracted  the  disease,  and  it  made  but 
short  work  with  the  feeble  old  lady. 

In  the  beginning  of  her  illness  her  son  was  summoned  in 
haste  from  Richmond  ;  but  though  he  used  his  utmost  speed 
in  hurrying  to  her  bedside,  he  only  arrived  in  time  to  hear 
her  last  wishes  and  receive  her  dying  blessing. 


124  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  You  must  not  grieve  after  me,  Alick,  my  dear.  Think 
what  a  long  and  happy  life  I  have  had  up  to  this  time. 
But  think,  now  that  your  father  is  gone,  how  lonely  I  must 
be.  I  want  to  be  with  him,  Alick." 

These  were  almost  her  last  words.  She  fell  into  stupor 
and  revived  only  once  more,  long  enough  to  lay  her  hand 
on  her  son's  head  and  bless  him. 

By  her  expressed  wish  her  body  was  carried  to  Old  Lyoii 
Hall,  and  placed  in  the  vault  beside  that  of  her  husband. 

And  the  wedding  was  put  off  for  another  year. 

"  There  is  a  fatality  in  it.  '"We  shall  never  be  united,  or 
if  we  should  be  the  union  will  bring  nothing  but  woe," 
said  Anna  to  her  grandfather. 

"  Wait  until  it  is  put  off  a  third  time,  my  dear,  before 
you  make  such  a  fatal  prediction,"  answered  the  general. 

After  the  burial,  Mr.  Lyon  went  down  to  Crowood, 
where  his  presence  was  necessary  to  the  settlement  of  some 
local  business. 

There  more  melancholy  news  met  him.  Mrs.  Sterling, 
whose  brain  had  been  seriously  affected  by  the  fever,  was 
now  certainly  losing  her  reason,  and  Drusilla  was  almost 
broken-hearted  between  the  death  of  her  dear  friend  and 
the  infirmity  of  her  dear  mother. 

It  is  said  that  madness  often  reverses  the  \vhole  moral 
character.  Mrs.  Sterling  who,  in  her  proper  senses,  had 
been  one  of  the  most  active,  energetic  and  domineering  of 
women,  was  now  one  of  the  meekest,  gentlest,  and  most 
harmless  of  lunatics.  Her  illusions  were  all  innocent,  and 
some  of  them  amusing.  Sometimes  she  fancied  herself  the 
mistress  of  Crowood.  At  other  times  she  imagined  that 
Alexander  and  Drusilla  were  married,  and  making  a  visit 
to  her  there. 

Her  pleasing  illusions  did  not  prevent  her  from  perform 
ing  all  her  household  duties,  only  she  discharged  them  in 
the  capacity  of  mistress,  not  manager. 


BRIDAL     FAVORS.  125 

Mr.  Lyon  consulted  the  country  doctor,  who  told  him 
that  in  Mrs.  Sterling's  case  there  was  a  gradual  softening  of 
the  brain  that  must  prove  fatal. 

A  part  of  Alexander's  business  at  Crowood  was  to  take 
Drusilla  back  to  school.  But  it  was  now  certain  that  she 
must  not  be  separated  from  her  mother. 

For  Drusilla's  sake,  he  wished  that  Mrs.  Sterling  might 
have  the  best  medical  advice.  So  he  decided  to  take  her  to 
Richmond,  to  be  examined  by  the  faculty  there.  But  as 
she  persisted  in  imagining  herself  mistress  of  Crowood,  in 
stead  of  the  hired  housekeeper  of  the  master,  to  be  directed 
by  his  will,  she  refused  to  leave  the  place. 

Then  Alexander,  taking  advantage  of  the  hallucination 
in  regard  to  the  supposed  marriage  of  Drusilla  and  himself, 
let  a  day  or  two  pass,  to  enable  her  to  forget  the  first  pro 
posal,  and  then  invited  her  to  pay  himself  and  her  daughter 
a  visit  at  their  new  house  in  the  city. 

This  the  harmless  lunatic  readily  consented  to  do.  And 
she  immediately  began  to  prepare  for  the  journey  with  a 
regularity  and  dispatch  not  to  be  excelled  by  the  sanest 
mind.  It  was  evident  that  her  mental  infirmity  did  not  in 
capacitate  her  for  the  functions  of  her  office. 

They  went  to  Richmond  and. took  up  their  abode  in  the 
town-house,  that  had  been  thoroughly  renovated  and  re 
furnished  in  honor  of  that  expected  marriage  which  had 
never  yet  come  off. 

Mrs.  Sterling  was  delighted  with  all  she  saw,  and  com 
plimented  her  imagined  son-in-law  on  his  taste  and  liberal 
ity,  and  congratulated  her  daughter  on  her  excellent  hus 
band  and  comfortable  home. 

Poor  Drusilla  could  only  throw  an  appealing  glance  at 
the  master,  which  seemed  to  pray  forgiveness. 

But  Alexander  laughed  and  pressed  her  hand,  as  he 
whispered : 

"Never  mind,  my  dear  !  Perhaps  her  imaginings  are 
not  all  lunacy.  They  may  be  second-sight.  Who  knows  ?  " 


126  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

He  spoke  half  in  jest  and  half  in  earnest,  and  drew  her 
to  his  "bosom,  and  held  her  there  for  a  moment.  But  when 
he  felt  the  wild  beating  of  her  heart  against  his  own,  and 
when  he  saw  the  deadly  paleness  of  her  cheek  as  it  rested 
against  his  breast,  he  suddenly  released  her,  half  repent 
ing  his  act. 

Mrs.  Sterling  seemed  to  think  such  hilling  and  cooing 
very  foolish,  though  quite  natural,  between  bride  and 
bridegroom,  for  as  she  looked  at  them  she  murmured  : 

"  Ah,  poor  souls,  they  think  it  is  always  going  to  be 
just  so.  La  !  look  at  any  middle-aged  married  couple  you 
know,  and  see  the  difference." 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Lyon,  holding  his  "  child's "  hand, 
stooped  and  whispered  to  her. 

"  Drusilla,  my  little  darling,  I  hope  I  have  not  hurt 
your  feelings,  have  I  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  and  tried  to  speak,  but  only  gasped 
instead,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  You  are  growing  out  of  all  this  now,  I  know.  Almost 
a  young  woman,  you  are,  turned  fourteen,  but  it  is  hard  to 
think  you  so ;  you  seem  still  to  be  my  own  precious  child," 
he  whispered  gently. 

Still  she  did  not  answer,  but  wept  softly  behind  her 
hands. 

"  Drusa,  my  daughter,  you  are  not  displeased  with  me, 
are  you  ?  I  would  no  more  willingly  displease  you  than  I 
would  the  highest  lady  in  the  land,"  he  continued. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !  You  could  not  do  so.  Don't  mind 
me.  I  do  not  know  why  I  weep.  I  don't  indeed.  •  I  am  a 
fool,  I  think." 

ft  That's  certain,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling,  dryly,  "  and  so  is 
he.  Young  people  are  apt  to  be  fools  in  their  honeymoon, 
but  time  cures  them." 

There  was  a  very  dry  method  in  the  madness  of  Mrs. 
Sterling. 


BRIDAL     FAVORS.  127 

The  housekeeper  took  possession  of  her  old  rooms,  but 
as  they  too  had  been  re-papered,  painted  and  furnished,  she 
scarcely  recognized  them  again. 

Drusilla  had  the  little  chamber  that  had  been  given  her 
by  Mrs.  Lyon,  and  was  now  renovated,  as  a  spare  room. 

Alexander  had  his  own  superb  suit  of  apartments. 

Mr.  Lyon  called  in  the  best  medical  science  and  skill  to 
the  aid  of  Mrs.  Sterling.  But  the  unanimous  opinion  of 
the  faculty  endorsed  that  of  the  country  doctor,  and  there 
was  little  hope  of  the  patient's  recovery. 

When  the  month  of  December  opened,  Mr.  Lyon  wrote 
to  his  uncle  and  to  his  betrothed,  inviting  them  to  come  as 
usual,  and  spend  the  Christmas  holidays  at  his  house  in 
Richmond,  and  reminding  them  that  the  meeting  would  be 
one  of  a  quiet  family  party,  excluding  all  other  visitors,  and 
abstaining  from  all  gayety,  in  respect  to  the  memory  of  the 
departed. 

Anna  wrote  back  on  behalf  of  her  grandfather  and  her 
self,  saying  that  she  could  not  make  a  visit  to  a  house  where 
there  was  no  lady  to  receive  her,  and  she  begged  that  Alex 
ander  would  come  for  once  and  pass  his  Christmas  at  Old 
Lyon  Hall. 

Of  course  Mr.  Lyon  could  do  nothing  but  accept  this  invi 
tation. 

And  he  dutifully  went  to  pass  the  season  with  his  prom 
ised  bride. 

And  these  were  the  most  dismal  Christmas  holidays  he 
had  ever  known.  He  missed  his  genial  father,  his  loving 
mother,  and  yes,  it  must  be  confessed,  he  missed  his  "  child/7 
and  he  could  not  help  contrasting  the  warm  devotion  of  his 
little  "  daughter  J;  with  the  cool  indifference  of  his  promised 
wife. 

His  visit  to  Old  Lyon  Hall  came  to  a  sudden  end. 
He  received  a  letter  from  one  of  the  servants  of  the  city 
house. 


128  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Mrs.  Sterling  had  died  suddenly,  if  he  pleased,  and  what 
was  to  be  done  with  Miss  Drusilla  ? 

Mr.  Lyon  showed  that  letter  to  Anna,  made  his  excuses 
to  the  general,  and  set  off  at  once  for  Richmond. 


CHAPTER  X. 

WHAT    WAS    DONE    WITH   DRUSILLA. 

Master,  go  on,  and  I  will  follow  thee 

To  the  last  gasp  with  truth  and  loyalty — SHAKBPEAEE. 

ALEXANDER  arrived  at  his  town  house  early  in  the  after 
noon.  He  was  met  by  his  confidential  servant,  Dorset,  an 
old  man  who  had  been  in  the  service  of  the  family  for 
nearly  thirty  years. 

"  Well,  Dorset,  so  the  poor  woman  is  gone  ?  "  sighed  the 
young  gentleman,  as  he  entered  the  house. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and  not  too  soon,  with  reverence  be  it  spoken. 
She  had  grown  very  foolish  and  helpless  within  the  last  few 
days.  She  died  without  illness  or  suffering,  sir.  She  went 
to  bed  as  usual  one  night  and  was  found  dead  next  morn 
ing.  Miss  Drusilla,  sleeping  by  her  side,  heard  no  sound 
and  felt  no  movement,  and  knew  nothing  of  what  had 
occurred  until  she  arose  for  the  day." 

"  How  shocking  !  The  second  sudden  death  in  the  family 
within  twelve  months.  And  the  third  in  all.  Where  is 
the  poor  girl  ?  " 

"  Miss  Drusilla  ?  She  has  not  left  the  corpse,  sir,  since 
the  death.  She  is  watching  by  it  now." 

"  That  is  very  wrong.  It  should  not  have  been  per 
mitted." 

'•  Dear  sir,  who  was  to  hinder  her  ?  There  is  no  one,  or 
I  should  say,  there  was  no  one  in  authority  here  to  prevent 
her." 


WHAT     WAS     DONE     \V  .  T  II     DRUS1LLA.        129 

"  That  is  very  true.  But  go  now  and  tell  the  poor  child 
that  I  am  here,  waiting  to  see  her." 

"  Will  you  go  to  your  room  first,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  I  came  up  by  the  boat  and  made  my  toilet  just 
before  landing.  I  will  wait  here  for  Drusilla." 

Dorset  went  away  with  the  message. 

And  in  about  ten  minutes,  Drusilla,  pale,  drooping  and 
woe-worn,  entered  the  room. 

Alexander  arose  and  took  her  in  his  arms  and  silently 
folded  her  to  his  bosom.  And  she  bowed  her  head  upon 
his  shoulder  and  wept  softly. 

"  My  poor  child !  My  poor,  dear  child,  you  don't  know 
how  sorry  I  am  for  you,"  said  Alexander,  tenderly  caress 
ing  her,  and  repeating  the  same  words  over  and  over  again, 
until  at  length  through  her  sobs  and  tears  she  answered 
them. 

"  Yes  I  do  ;  oh,  yes  indeed  I  do  know  how  good  you  are 
and  how  much  you  pity  us  both — poor  mother,  dying  as  she 
did,  and — me  too." 

"  My  dear  Drusilla,  you  shall  never  want  a  friend  while  I 
live,  or  a  home  while  I  have  one,"  he  murmured,  smoothing 
her  disordered  hair  with  his  hand. 

"  I  know  that  too.  It  is  not  that.  I  am  not  afraid. 
But  oh  !  if  I  had  not  slept  that  night,  perhaps  she  would 
not  have  died,"  cried  the  girl,  breaking  into  fresh  and 
passionate  sobs  and  tears. 

"  Drusilla,  my  dearest,  you  talk  wildly,"  he  said,  trying 
to  soothe  her. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  I  know  what  I  am  saying.  If  I  had 
only  sat  up  and  watched  her  that  night,  I  might  have  seen 
the  change  and  saved  her  life." 

"  But,  Drusilla,  I  learn  that  your  poor  mother  was  in  her 
usual  health  of  body  when  she  went  to  bed." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  so  she  was  ;  else  I  certainly  would  have 
sat  up  with  her.  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  !  I  wish  I  had !  I 
8 


130  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

would  give  my  .life  now  to  have  done  it.  Oh,  my  poor 
mother  !  my  poor  dear  mother.  I  slept  on  by  your  side  and 
let  you  die — die  alone,  without  help,  without  even  a  word 
of  love.  Oh,  my  mother  !  "  cried  the  girl,  utterly  losing  her 
self-command,  and  weeping  and  sobbing  and  raving  as  if 
her  heart  would  break  or  her  brain  madden. 

Alexander  let  the  wild  gust  of  sorrow  spend  its  strength, 
and  then  he  said  : 

"  Drusilla,  if  you  had  been  sitting  by  your  mother's  bed, 
gazing  on  her  sleeping  face,  you  would  never  have  suspect 
ed  that  she  was  dying  and  never  known  the  moment  of 
her  death.  My  child,  she  had  a  fatal  malady  of  the  brain 
that  was  certain  to  end  just  as  it  did.  She  passed  away 
peacefully  in  her  sleep.  Hers  was  an  easy  death.  Drusilla, 
do  not  add  causeless  regrets  to  natural  grief  with  these  ifs. 
Nearly  all  persons  do  so,  however.  I  never  knew  any  one 
to  die  whose  mourning  friends  did  not  add  irrational 
remorse  to  rational  sorrow  by  the  means  of  these  ifs.  If 
we  had  done  this  ;  if  we  had  not  done  that ;  if  such  a 
doctor  had  been  called^  or  such  a  remedy  administered. 
These  retrospective  ifs  are  illusions.  Do  not  let  them 
deceive  you." 

These  words  he  spoke,  while  with  a  gentle  mesmeric 
touch  he  smoothed  her  hair  and  her  brow,  and  held  her 
head  close  to  his  bosom. 

She  had  neither  the  power  nor  the  will  to  leave  her  rest 
ing  place ;  but  her  wild  weeping  softened  into  low  sobs, 
that  became  fewer  and  farther  between,  until  at  last  they 
ceased  entirely. 

Alexander  looked  down  and  saw  that  she  was  fast  asleep. 

Like  a  baby  she  had  cried  herself  to  sleep  on  his  shelter 
ing  bosom.  She  was  no  longer  pale ;  her  long-curved  eye 
lashes,  gemmed  with  tears,  lay  on  her  flushed  cheeks,  and 
her  slightly  crimson  lips  showed  the  little  pearly  teeth 
within  ;  her  dark  brown  disordered  hair  fell  around  a  fore 
head  and  down  a  neck  as  white  as  ivory. 


WHAT    WAS     DONE     WITH    DRUSILLA.        181 

Even  in  that  solemn  hour,  Alexander,  looking  down  upon' 
her,  loved  her  for  her  wondrous  beauty,  seen  in  its  new 
phase  of  sleep. 

But  he  had  grace  to  know  that  such  feelings  were  sacri 
lege  against  this  pure  maiden  and  sacred  orphan  ;  and  so  he 
gently  arose  and  crossed  the  room  to  a  large  sofa  and  laid 
her  on  it.  And  then  he  touched  the  bell. 

Dorset  answered  it. 

et  Send  one  of  the  women  servants  here,"  said  Alexander. 

The  man  bowed  and  went  away,  and  was  succeeded  by  a 
fat,  motherly,  middle-aged  person  who  answered  to  the 
name  of  Molly. 

Alexander  silently  pointed  to  the  form  on  the  sofa. 

"  Ah  !  Lors-a-messy  !  poor  gall !  So  she's  gone  to  sleep 
at  last.  Well,  sir,  that  will  be  the  first  sleep  she's  had 
since  Sunday  night,  and  this  is  "Wednesday.  Night  and 
day  has  she  watched  by  the  corpse  and  nobody  to  hinder 
her,"  said  the  fat  woman,  holding  her  sides  and  panting,  as 
she  gazed  on  the  sleeping  orphan. 

"  You  should  have  hindered  her,"  said  Alexander. 

"Me  !  Lors-a-messy  !  I  couldn't  ha'  done  it  except  by 
main  force,  which  I  had  no  right  to  use." 

"  Well  5  let  that  pass.  What  I  wish  to  know  now  is, 
whether  she  can  be  undressed  and  put  to  bed  comfortably 
without  being  waked  up." 

"Lors-a-messy,  yes,  sir!  When  they's  been  watching 
and  weeping  three  days  and  nights  and  then  draps  down 
and  falls  asleep,  they  might's  well  be  in  a  trance,  far's  wak 
ing  up  goes.  Bless  you,  sir,  you  could  hardly  wake  her  up 
if  you  was  to  fire  off  a  pistol  over  her  head." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  but  I  have  no  wish  to  try 
the  experiment.  I  will  carry  her  up  stairs  myself.  Do 
you  go  before  and  open  the  doors,"  said  Alexander,  tenderly 
raising  the  sleeping  girl  in  his  arms  and  carrying  her,  pre 
ceded  by  Molly,  up  two  flights  of  stairs,  to  Drusilla's  own 


132  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES 

little  room.  Here  he  laid  her  on  the  bed,  and  leaving  her 
to  the  care  of  the  woman,  retired. 

He  went  to  the  dinner  that  had  been  hastily  prepared 
for  him.  And  when  he  had  got  through  with  it  he  went 
into  the  late  justice's  study  and  called  up  Dorset  to  a  con 
sultation  about  the  funeral. 

In  answer  to  his  master's  question,  Dorset  said  that  the 
late  housekeeper  was  laid  out  in  her  own  room  ;  that  orders 
had  already  been  given  for  a  plain,  respectable  funeral, 
which  was  fixed  for  the  next  day.  And  Dorset  hoped  that 
Mr.  Lyon  approved  of  what  he  had  done. 

"  Quite  so.  You  have  saved  me  so  much  trouble,  that  I 
almost  think  my  presence  here  might  have  been  dispensed 
with,"  said  Alexander. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I  only  wrote  to  you  to  ask  what 
should  be  done  with  Miss  Drusilla,  seeing  that  this  would 
no  longer  be  a  proper  home  for  her/'  said  the  old  man. 

"  True ;  I  must  think  about  that  after  the  funeral.  Of 
course  she  can't  leave  the  house  while  her  mother's  corpse 
remains  in  it,"  said  Alexander,  musingly. 

And  he  mused  so  long  that  he  forgot  the  presence  of 
Dorset,  until  he  happened  to  look  up  and  see  the  old  man 
still  standing  respectfully  waiting  orders. 

"  Oh  ! — you  may  go  now,"  he  then  said. 

And  the  old  servant  bowed  and  retired. 

The  next  day  at  noon  the  funeral  took  place.  The 
clergyman's  widow  was  carried  to  her  grave  in  the  cemetery 
attached  to  the  church  to  which  she  belonged. 

Drusilla,  the  sole  mourner,  rode  in  a  coach  with  Alexan 
der.  Her  head,  heavy  with  sorrow,  rested  on  his  shoulder, 
and  his  arm  encircled  her  waist.  She  never  thought 
whether  this  was  right  or  wrong.  She  was  borne  down 
with  grief,  and  she  leaned  upon  him  who  was  her  only 
earthly  support  and  comfort. 

She    had  never   even   thought  of  putting  herself    into 


WHAT     WAS    DONE    WITH     DRUSILLA.       183 

"  decent  mourning "  for  her  lost  mother.  She  was  still 
wearing  black  for  old  Mrs.  Lyon,  and  so  she  really  needed 
no  new  outfit,  except  the  black  crape  bonnet  and  heavy 
crape  veil ;  and  these  the  forethought  of  the  women  servants 
had  provided  her  with. 

Alexander  sustained  his  "  child "  through  all  the  last 
trying  scene  by  the  open  grave.  Arid  when  it  was  closed 
he  took  her  home. 

On  entering  the  house  he  gave  her  into  the  charge  of  the 
motherly  Molly,  with  orders  that  she,  Drusilla,  should  take 
a  cup  of  tea,  and  go  to  her  room  and  lie  down  for  the  rest 
of  the  day.  This  was  Thursday. 

On  Friday  Alexander  wrote  to  his  cousin,  giving  an 
account  of  the  housekeeper's  death  and  burial,  and  saying 
that  henceforth  he  intended  to  adopt  Drusilla,  and  that  he 
should  take  her  back  to  school  on  the  following  Monday. 

Could  Alexander  have  foreseen  the  bitter  mortification  he 
was  destined  to  meet  there  he  would  as  soon  have  plunged 
into  a  fire  as  entered  that  school-house. 

Drusilla,  grieving  incessantly,  kept  her  room  until  Sun 
day,  when  she  came  down  to  breakfast  for  the  first  time 
since  the  funeral. 

Alexander  received  her  as  if  she  had  indeed  been  his 
daughter  or  his  beloved  younger  sister.  He  kissed  her  and 
placed  her  in  her  seat.  In  the  course  of  the  meal  he  told 
her  that  on  the  next  day  he  should  take  her  back  to  the 
Irving  Institute  to  resume  and  continue  her  studies  until 
she  should  graduate. 

Drusilla  tried  to  express  her  acquiescence  in  the  plan, 
and  her  thanks  for  his  kindness,  but  her  voice  faltered,  and 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

He  looked  wistfully  in  her  face  and  read  her  thoughts, 
and  answered  them. 

"  You  weep  at  the  idea  of  being  sent  away  from " 

He  hesitated,  and  then  continued  :  "  from  all  you  have  left 


134  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

to  love  at  a  time  when  yon  want  so  much  consolation.  My 
dear  child  it  is  necessary  for  more  reasons  than  one.  But  I 
shall  spend  the  winter  here  as  usual,  Drusilla,  and  I  will  go 
to  see  you  at  the  school  at  least  twice  a  week." 

"  I  know  that  you  are  very  good  and  all  that  you  do  is 
perfectly  right.  I  do  not  question  these.  But  I  must 
weep  a  little,  and  I  feel  you  will  have  patience  with  your 
child,"  she  murmured. 

"  My  child  never  tries  my  patience,"  said  Alexander, 
tenderly. 

They  arose  from  the  table. 

Alexander  was  rather  a  negligent  Christian,  but  on  this 
day  he  attended  Drusilla  to  church. 

On  Monday  morning  he  ordered  the  carriage,  and  took 
her  to  school. 

When  they  arrived  they  were  shown  as  usual  into  the 
visitors'  parlor,  where  they  waited  while  the  parlor-maid 
took  Mr.  Lyon's  card  up  to  the  principal. 

A  longer  interval  than  usual  on  such  occasions  passed 
before  the  door  swung  open,  and  the  stately  Mrs.  Irving 
entered.  She  bowed  to  Mr.  Lyon,  and  started  slightly 
on  seeing  Drusilla,  and  betrayed  as  much  surprise  and 
annoyance  as  it  was  possible  for  so  cultivated  and  self- 
possessed  a  lady  to  exhibit.  She  sat  down,  however,  and 
waited  for  her  visitor  to  open  his  business. 

"  I  have  brought  your  pupil  back  to  you,  Madam,"  said 
Mr.  Lyon,  bowing  and  waving  his  hand  towards  Drusilla, 
who  immediately  arose  and  curtsied  to  her  former  school 
mistress,  and  then  resumed  her  seat. 

"Ah  !  "  said  the  lady,  very  coldly,  "  I  regret  to  say  that 
it  is  not  convenient  for  us  to  receive  Miss  Sterling." 

Alexander  looked  surprised,  not  so  much  at  the  words  as 
at  the  coldness  with  which  they  were  uttered. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  so;  Madam.  Your  house  is 
full  then,  I  presume." 


WHAT     WAS     DONE     WITH     DRUSILLA.        135 

The  lady  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  seeing  that 
Mr.  Lyon  was  looking  at  her  and  waiting  for  an  answer, 
she  said : 

"  No,  it  is  not  full." 

Alexander  was  more  surprised  than  ever. 

"  Then,  Madam,  may  I  ask  why — hut  I  beg  your  pardon  ; 
you  have  certainly  the  right  under  any  circumstances  to 
decline  a  pupil.  I  would  he  glad  to  know,  however, 
whether  Miss  Sterling's  tuition  fees  were  in.  arrears  at  the 
time  she  was  temporarily  withdrawn,  or  if  they  are  so 
now  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  Mrs.  Lyon  settled  the  account." 

"  Then  why — Again  I  beg  pardon  ;  I  have  no  right,  per 
haps,  to  ask  your  reason  for  declining  to  receive  my  ward. 
But  I  will  venture  to  say  that  if  there  was  any  misunder 
standing  as  to  the  cause  of  her  withdrawal  twelve  months 
ago,  I  am  happy  to  assure  you  that  it  was  from  no  dissatis 
faction  with  the  school  or  its  teachers,  or  its  discipline  ;  and, 
in  short,  that  no  offence  was  meant,  and  I  hope  none  was 
taken." 

"  None,  I  assure  you  sir  ;  for  we  all  quite  understood  that 
Miss  Sterling  was  taken  from  school  to  attend  upon  her 
guardian,  Mrs.  Lyon." 

Alexander's  surprise  grew  into  amazement.  If  the 
S€hool  was  not  full,  if  the  school-hills  were  punctually  paid, 
if  no  offence  had  been  given  or  taken,  why  in  the  name 
of  wonder  should  the  school  mistress  decline  to  receive 
back  into  her  charge  a  profitable  pupil. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  rising  to  go,  "  I  cannot  demand  an 
explanation  of  your  refusal  to  receive  my  ward — " 

"  And  I  would  rather  not  give  one,  sir,"  interrupted  the 
lady,  forgetting  in  her  haste  that  it  was  not  courteous  to  cut 
short  a  gentleman's  words,  and  that  she  herself  would  have 
rebuked  any  pupil  of  her  school  for  doing  such  a  thing. 

"  I  was  about  to   say,  Madam,  that   1  could  not  demand 


136  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

such  an  explanation  as  a  right,  but  that  I  would  ask  it  as  a 
favor.  I  will  take  Miss  Sterling  back  to  the  carriage  and 
return  here  immediately  if  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  await 
me." 

"  But,  sir — "  commenced  the  lady. 

Alexander  only  bowed  low  in  response,  took  the  hand  of 
Drusilla  and  drew  it  under  his  arm  and  led  her  from  the 
room  and  the  house,  and  placed  her  in  the  carriage. 

He  told  the  coachman  to  stop  there,  and  then  he  went 
back  to  the  parlor,  where  he  found  the  principal  of  the 
school  still  waiting. 

"  Madam,"  he  commenced,  gravely  but  courteously  stand 
ing  before  her,  "  there  is  something  more  in  your  refusal  to 
receive  my  ward  than  appears.  I  respectfully  ask  you  to 
tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  And  I  entreat  you,  sir,  as  you  are  a  gentleman,  not  to 
press  the  question,"  said  Miss  Irving  very  coldly. 

"  Believe  me,  Madam,  if  I  only  were  concerned  I  would 
press  no  unwelcome  question  upon  any  lady  ;  but  this  is  the 
case  of  an  orphan  girl  who,  for  no  fault  of  hers,  has  received 
a  mortifying  repulse.  Forgive  me  if  I  still  must  press  for 
an  explanation." 

"  Sit  down,  sir,  and  if  you  must  have  it,  I  do  not  think 
Drusilla  Sterling  a  fit  or  proper  associate  for  the  young 
ladies  who  are  under  my  care." 

"Madam!  Is  it  possible lhat  in  a  democratic  country 
like  this,  the  mere  fact  that  a  young  girl  happens  to  be  the 
daughter  of  a  respectable  housekeeper  should  exclude  her 
from  the  school  where  young  ladies  are  educated  ?  Consider  ; 
her  mother,  though  in  some  sort  a  domestic  servant,  was 
still  a  most  respectable  person,  the  widow  of  a  Baptist 
preacher,"  said  Alexander,  with  ill  suppressed  vexation. 

"Sir,  it  is  not  the  girl's  position,  but  her  character,  that 
is  so  objectionable." 

"  MADAM  !  "  exclaimed  Alexander,  firing  up. 


WHAT    WAS     DONE     WITH    DRUSILLA.        137 

"  You  have,  by  forcing  me  to  an  explanation,  sir,  brought 
all  this  unpleasantness  upon  yourself.  I  would  willingly 
have  spared  my  own  feelings  and  yours  by  keeping  silent/' 
said  the  lady,  very  gravely. 

"  Madam,  you  have  now  said  too  much  not  to  say  more. 
Who  is  it  that  dares  to  question  the  blameless  character  of 
my  young  ward  ?  " 

"  Common  rumor,  sir  !  " 

"  Common  rumor  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  starting 
up.  Then  controlling  his  excited  passion,  and  re-seatirig 
himself,  he  inquired  grimly — "  What  is  the  nature  of  this 
injurious  rumor  ?  " 

"  Her  name  is  associated  with  yours  in  a  manner  that 
must  be  fatal  to  the.  reputation  of  any  young  girl." 

Alexander  stared  blankly  at  the  lady  for  a  moment,  and 
then  exclaimed  : 

"  Heaven  and  earth,  Madam,  what  is  it  that  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Sir,  it  is  not  courteous  to  cross-question  me  in  this  man 
ner,"  said  Mrs.  Irving,  blushing  between  embarrassment 
and  anger. 

"  Not  courteous  !  Am  I  to  be  on  courteous  terms  with 
one  who  is  stabbing. — Madam,  if  you  were  not  a  woman — 
But  let  that  pass.  I  now  insist  upon  knowing  what  you 
mean  by  saying  that  Drusilla  Sterling's  spotless  name 
is  associated  with  mine  in  a  manner  that  must  be  fatal 
to  her,"  indignantly  exclaimed  Alexander. 

"It  is  said,  then,  that  you  are  her  favored  lover, 
with  no  intention  of  becoming  her  husband,"  coldly  and 
curtly  answered  the  lady. 

"  Heaven  of  Heavens  ! "  exclaimed  the  young  man, 
starting  up  and  striding  across  the  room  in  his  excite 
ment,  "  was  ever  such  an  infamous  calumny  ! — Your 
author,  Madam  !  I  demand  to  know  your  author  ! "  he 
at  length  said,  standing  before  her,  pale  with  fury. 

"  I  said  common  rumor,"  quietly  replied  Mrs.  Irving. 


138  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  No,  but  that  will  not  do !  Common  rumor  is  an  irre 
sponsible  tiling.  I  must  have  your  author — one  who  can 
be  called  to  account,  and  made  to  swallow  the  calumny, 
though  it  should  choke  the  calumniator." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  fear  you  will  have  to  call  my  whole  school, 
with  its  patrons  behind  it,  to  account.  For  this  rumor 
came  in  with  the  pupils  who  returned  to  the  school  after 
the  Christmas  holidays.  They  heard  it  at  their  homes,  or 
in  the  social  circles  of  the  city  where  it  was  spoken  of.  Of 
course,  when  this  report  came  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
teachers,  they  severely  rebuked  their  pupils  for  such  sort 
of  conversation.  I  know  nothing  of  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  this  report ;  it  is  quite  enough  that  such  exists  to  banish 
its  subject,  guilty  or  innocent,  from  young  ladies'  society." 

Alexander  resumed  his  hurried  walk  to  and  fro  in  the 
room  in  much  distress  of  mind.  Then,  pausing  once  more 
before  the  lady,  he  said  : 

"  Madam,  I  am  wounded  to  the  quick  by  these  cruel  and 
fatal  slanders.  But  would  it  not  have  been  more  womanly, 
more  Christian  in  you  to  have  defended  the  good  name  of 
that  innocent  girl  and  friendless  orphan  ? — Friendless,  but 
for  my  friendship,  which  seems  to  have  been  her  bane." 

"  Sir,  you  must  please  to  remember  that  my  position  as 
the  principal  of  a  young  ladies'  academy  is  a  peculiar  one. 
Had  I  even  known  your  ward  to  be  blameless,  I  could  not, 
in  the  face  of  such  reports,  have  received  her  without 
breaking  up  my  school.  Every  pupil  would  have  been  re 
moved  by  her  friends,  nor  could  I  have  blamed  them.  I 
regret  to  have  pained  you  ;  but  please  also  to  remember 
that  you  brought  this  pain  upon  yourself  by  insisting  on 
an  explanation." 

"And  I  was  right!  And  I  will  drag  the  foul  slander 
farther  into  the  light.  Some  one  originated  it,  and  I  will 
make  it  my  first  business  to  discover  and  punish  the  orig 
inator.  Good  morning,  Madam." 


WHAT     WAS    DONE     WITH      DRUSILLA.        139 

And  with  a  very  ceremonious  bow  Alexander  Lryon  left 
the  room. 

When  he  entered  the  carriage,  and  seated  himself  by 
Drusilla's  side,  she  turned  to  him  with  a  sweet,  bright  con 
fiding  look,  that  smote  him  to  the  heart. 

"  Oh,  do  not  smile  on  me  so,  my  child  !  I  have  been  too 
thoughtless  of  your  good.  But  you  shall  have  justice — full 
justice — grand  justice  !  By  the  heavens  above,  you  shall, 
cost  it  what  it  may  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  looked  at  him  now  in  much  distress,  and  faltered 
forth  the  question : 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  has  so  disturbed  you  ?  " 

He  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  answered  firmly, 
though  kindly  : 

"  No,  Drusilla — not  for  the  world.  To  tell  you  would  be 
to  wrong  you.  Trust  in  me,  my  child." 

"  Oh,  I  do,  I  do,  as  I  trust  in  heaven  ! "  she  answered, 
fervently. 

"  And  I  will  never  betray  that  innocent  trust,  and  may 
the  Lord  deal  with  me  as  I  shall  deal  with  you,  my  child ! " 
he  said,  reverently  lifting  his  hat. 

In  the  meantime  the  carriage,  bowling  along  at  a  rapid 
rate,  brought  them  back  to  the  house. 

"  You  have  forborne  to  ask  me  what  passed  in  my  inter 
view  with  the  school  mistress,  (Satan  fly  away  with  her  !" 
he  muttered  between  his  teeth,)  "  and  you  have  done  well. 
If  the  conversation  had  been  proper  for  you  to  hear,  I 
should  have  repeated  it  to  you,"  said  Alexander,  as  they 
entered  the  house." 

"  But  I  trust  in  you,"  Drusilla  replied,  as  she  bowed  her 
head,  and  then  went  up  stairs  to  take  off  her  bonnet. 

Alexander  Lyou  went  into  the  morning  sitting-room  and 
rang  the  bell,  and  then  dropped,  half  dead  with  trouble, 
into  his  leathern  arm-chair. 

Old  Dorset  answered  the  summons. 


140  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Come  here — close  to  me/'  said  the  young  man. 

And  Dorset,  perplexed  and  disturbed  by  the  looks  and 
manners  of  his  master,  approached. 

"  Dorset,  you  are  an  old,  faithful  and  very  discreet  ser 
vant,"  commenced  Mr.  Alexander. 

Dorset  bowed  humbly  and  silently. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  upon  a  very  delicate  subject, 
which  I  would  not  name  to  any  other  person  in  the  house, 
or  even  to  you,  except  under  the  most  urgent  necessity. 
Dorset "  He  paused,  as  if  he  found  the  greatest  diffi 
culty  in  proceeding.  And  Dorset  bowed  again,  and  waited 
in  respectful  attention.  "  Dorset,"  he  resumed,  "  while 
Miss  Sterling  has  been  in  this  house,  have  you  heard  any 
rumor  prejudicial  to  her  good  name  ?  " 

The  old  servant  bowed  his  head  upon  his  breast,  and  re 
mained  in  a  deep  silence  of  grief  and  mortification. 

"  That  is  enough  !  "  said  the  young  man,  grimly ;  "  your 
silence  is  more  eloquent  than  words.  But  now  open  your 
mouth  and  speak,  to  tell  me  who  started  these  reports,  for, 
by  the  father  of  lies,  I  swear  to  visit  them  heavily  upon 
the  head  of  the  slanderer  !  " 

The  old  servant  shook  his  gray  locks  slowly  and  sadly, 
and  then  answered : 

"  Ah,  my  dear  master  !  in  that  case,  I  fear,  you  would 
have  to  punish  the  dead,  and  I  scarcely  believe  that  you 
would  do  that  if  you  could,  or  could  do  it  if  you  would." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  old  man  ?  " 

"  Ah,  sir,  you  might  almost  guess.  The  report  started 
with  that  poor,  mad  woman's  fancies  about  you  having 
married  her  daughter." 

Alexander  sprang  from  his  chair,  struck  his  forehead,  and 
then  sinking  into  his  seat  again,  murmured  : 

"  I  might  have  foreseen  this  ;  I  ought  to  have  foreseen  it 
when  I  humored  and  almost  encouraged  the  poor  creature 
in  her  illusions.  But  how  did  this  get  out  ?" 


WHAT     WAS    DONE     WITH     DRUSILLA.        141 

"  Well,  sir,  it  was  in  this  way  :  her  church  friends  came 
to  see  her,  and  she  babbled  to  them  a,bout  your  fancied 
marriage  with  her  daughter,  which,  of  course,  none  of 
them  believed.  If  you  remember,  sir,  in  speaking  of  the 
poor  woman's  death,  I  told  you  she  died  easy  and  not  too 
soon,  for  that  she  had  grown  more  and  more  foolish  every 
day.  It  seemed  heartless  to  say  so,  sir,  but  indeed  it  was 
true ;  for  from  babling  of  your  marriage  with  her  daughter, 
she  got  to  babbling  about  your  wronging  of  her  daughter, 
m  the  very  worst  way  a  gentleman  could  wrong  a  young 
woman." 

"  Good  heavens  !  was  ever  such  a  fatal  calamity  ?  "  cried 
Alexander,  starting  up  and  pacing  the  room  in  great  ex 
citement.  "  Oh,  my  child  !  my  child  !  iny  lamb  !  my  dove  ! 
my  dear,  dear  Drusilla  !  Go  on,  old  man  !  go  on !  what 
next?" 

"  Sir,  they  to  whom  she  babbled  believed  this  last  lie, 
and  took  it  into  their  addled  heads  that  the  mother's  mad 
ness  was  caused  by  the  daughter's  ruin,  and  went  and  re 
ported  as  they  believed." 

"  Who  were  they  ?  " 

"Women,  sir,  more  the  pity  !  women  of  the  church — old 
women  who  came  to  take  tea  and  talk  scandal  with  the 
housekeeper." 

"  And  did  Drusilla — did  my  poor  child  hear  all  this  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,  sir.  Mad  as  the  mother  was,  she  had 
sense  enough  left  to  send  her  daughter  out  of  the  room 
whenever  she  was  about  to  babble.  No,  sir  ;  I  feel  sure 
Miss  Drusilla  knows  nothing  about  it." 

"  Thank  heaven  for  that !     She  shall  never  know." 

"  These  reports,  sir,  caused  me,  in  writing  to  you  of  the 
housekeeper's  death,  to  ask  you  what  should  be  done  with 
Miss  Drusilla  ;  for  I  knew  that  this  house  was  no  longer  a 
proper  home  for  her,  as  I  took  the  liberty  of  hinting  to  you, 
sir  j  for  though  Molly  and  myself  and  indeed  all  the  ser- 


142  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

vants,  did  all  we  could  to  put  a  stop  to  these  rumors,  we  could 
not  succeed  in  doing  it.  And  so,  sir/7  repeated  the  old 
man,  "  I  made  so  bold  as  to  ask  you  what  should  be  done 
with  Miss  Drusilla." 

"I  know  NOW  what  shall  be  done  with  her.  SHE  SHALL 
BE  MARRIED  !  "  said  Alexander  Lyon,  grimly.  "  And  now, 
Dorset,  you  may  go ;  and  remember,  not  one  word  of  this 
interview  to  any  living  creature  ! "  he  added. 

"  Surely  not,  sir,"  said  the  old  man,  bowing  himself  out 
of  the  room,  and  much  wondering,  if  Miss  Drusilla  was  to 
be  married,  where  Mr.  Lyon  meant  to  find  her  a  husband. 


CHAPTEE  XL 

JOY    FOR    DRUSILLA. 

Joy  trickled  in  her  tears,  joy  filled  the  sob 

That  rocked  her  heart  till  almost  heard  to  throb; 

And  paradise  was  breathing  in  the  sigh 

Of  nature's  child,  in  nature's  ecstacy. — BYRON. 

WHILE  Alexander  Lyon  paced  the  floor  of  his  study, 
trembling  with  shame  and  anger,  Drusilla  sat  in  her  little 
chamber,  smiling  with  delight.  The  same  event  that 
thrilled  his  soul  with  a  sense  of  wrong  and  mortification, 
filled  her  heart  with  joy.  She  was  not  to  go  back  to  school. 
She  was  to  stay  home  with  him ;  and  this  was  all  sufficient 
to  her  happiness.  She  neither  knew,  nor  guessed,  nor  cared 
why  she  had  been  declined,  as  a  pupil  by  Mrs.  Irving.  She 
had  a  vague  impression  that  the  school  was  full,  or  the 
staff  of  teachers  incomplete ;  but  she  was  too  entirely 
absorbed  in  the  happy  thought  of  being  at  home  for  good 
with  him,  to  speculate  about  the  reason  why  she  was  so. 

During  the  last  twelve  months,  while  in  attendance  upon 
her  late  benefactress,  and  also  while  with  her  lost  mother, 


JOY     FOR     DRUSILLA.  143 

Drusilla  had  had  the  entire  charge  of  Alexander's  wardrobe. 
To  keep  it  in  perfect  order  was  with  her  a  labor  of  love. 
So,  on  this  morning,  when  she  was  so  unexpectedly  and  joy 
fully  reprieved  from  banishment,  she  sat  down  with  her 
little  work-basket  beside  her,  and  occupied  the  hours  in 
darning  small  holes  in  silk  and  lambs-wool  socks;  and  so 
neatly  she  darned,  that  it  would  have  required  sharp  eyes 
to  have  found  out  where  the  recent  rents  had  been.  She 
worked  and  sang  at  her  work,  for  her  heart  was  overflowing 
with  happiness. 

Ah !  even  her  mother  was  for  the  moment  forgotten. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  she  was  sent  for  to  join  Mr.  Lyon 
at  dinner. 

She  merely  smoothed  her  hair  and  put  on  a  fresh  collar 
and  pair  of  cuffs,  and  then  went  down  into  the  dining- 
room. 

There  had  always  been  kindness  and  gentleness  in  his 
manner  to  her.  But  now,  as  he  arose  to  meet  her,  there 
was  a  tenderness  in  his  expression  that  she  had  never  seen 
before. 

"  My  poor  child  !  You  are  smiling  ;  I  really  believe  you 
are  glad  to  be  back  at  home,"  he  said,  as  he  placed  her  in 
her  chair. 

"  Indeed  I  am,  very  glad,"  answered  Drusilla,  truthfully. 

"  Well,  then — so  am  I,"  said  Alexander,  smiling  on  her  ; 
and  then  adding,  in  a  lower  tone — "  It  is  fate ;  who  can 
resist  it  ?  " 

He  helped  her  to  the  most  delicate  morsels,  from  each 
dish.  And  to  please  him  she  tried  to  eat  a  little  ;  but,  in 
truth,  joy  as  surely  takes  appetite  away  as  grief  does  ;  and 
added  to  her  joy  in  being  at  home  was  a  strange,  vague  pre 
sentiment  of  something  about  to  happen,  something  immi 
nent  and  momentous.  All  the  spiritual  atmosphere  around 
her  seemed  as  full  of  this,  as  the  air  before  a  storm  is  full 
of  electricity. 


144  T  H  E      C  II  A  X  G  E  1)      1)  II  I  I)  K  S  . 

Alexander  ate  no  more  than  she  did.  And  neither 
spoke  often  or  much. 

At  length,  when  they  had  lingered  some  time  over  the 
dessert,  he  arose  and  said  : 

"  My  child,  are  you  too  shy  to  withdraw,  and  are  you 
waiting  for  me  to  dismiss  you?  Go,  then,  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  presently  I  will  come  to  you  there, 
and  you  shall  give  me  a  cup  of  tea,"  and  so  saying  he 
opened  the  door,  and  held  it  open  for  her  to  pass  out. 

"Mr.  Alexander — you  are  glad  I  am  not  going  back  to 
school,  are  you  not  ?  "  she  inquired,  doubtfully  and  anxious 
ly,  as  she  paused  in  the  door-way  and  raised  her  beautiful 
beseeching  eyes  to -his  face. 

"  Yes !  by  all  my  hopes  of  happiness,  I  am  glad ! "  he 
suddenly  exclaimed ;  and  then  he  added — ("  I  am  always 
glad  to  have  my  fate  decided  for  me,")  and  then  again  laugh 
ing  lightly,  he  said — "  There,  go  away,  little  love  !  I  will 
join  you  presently." 

Drusilla  went  to  the  drawing-room  ;  but  she  did  not  sit 
down  ;  she  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  room,  strangely 
perturbed  by  that  presentiment,  of  which  she  could  not  yet 
know  whether  it  was  to  be  one  of  joy  or  great  woe. 

Alexander  remained  in  the  dining-room  alone  ;  not  drink 
ing  wdne,  or  smoking  cigars ;  neither  of  these  small  vices 
affected  him.  He  was  simply  trying  to  commune  with 
himself ;  a  difficult  task  to  one  so  unused  to  self-examination 
a#  Mr.  Lyon.  He  had  always  loved  his  beautiful  pet,  more 
than  he  had  ever  loved  any  other  living  creature ;  and  always, 
as  he  supposed,  in  a  fatherly,  or  elder  brotherly  sort  of 
fashion.  But  lately  this  pure  love  had  burst  forth  into  a 
fierce  passion.  From  the  hour  in  which  he  had  soothed  her 
sorrow,  and  hushed  her  to  rest  011  his  bosom,  and  gazed  on 
her  sleeping  beauty,  he  had  longed  to  make  that  beauty  his 
own  forever.  True,  from  the  very  first,  he  had  combatted 
this  passion.  From  the  very  moment  that  he  found  himself 


JOY      FOR      DRUSILLA.  145 

contemplating  the  beautiful  girl  with  other  feelings  than 
became  the  brotherly  love  he  professed  for  her,  he  put  her 
from  his  arms,  and  tried  to  put  her  from  his  heart,  and  made 
arrangements  for  placing  her  entirely  out  of  his  sight  and 
out  of  his  way,  in  the  safe  refuge  of  her  school.  How  and 
why  she  was  rejected  by  the  principal  of  that  school,  the 
reader  already  knows. 

The  very  fact  of  rejection  threw  her  back  upon  his  hands, 
while  the  cause  of  it  appealed  to  his  manhood  in  her 
behalf. 

When  sinners  can  find  no  other  excuse  for  sin,  they  plead 
fate. 

Alexander,  sitting  and  gazing  dreamily  into  the  lights 
and  shadows  of  his  glowing  coal  fire,  said  to  himself  that 
fate  had  set  itself  against  his  union  with  Anna,  and  fate  had 
thrown  Drusilla  into  his  arms.  He  recalled  the  facts  that 
his  wedding  with  Anna,  twice  fixed,  had  been  twice  stopped 
bjr  the  hand  of  death  ;  that  Anna  did  not  love  him,  and  did 
love  Richard  Hammond  :  that  he  himself  did  not  love  Anna, 
but  loved  Drusilla ;  that  Drusilla  loved  him,  and  had  most 
innocently  suffered  reproach  and  injury  on  his  account; 
that  he  had  striven  to  overcome  his  passion  for  the  beauti 
ful  orphan,  even  to  the  extent  of  taking  her  to  school  with 
the  full  intention  of  leaving  her  there,  but  that  she  had 
been  repulsed  and  thrown  back  upon  his  charge. 

He  had  decided  that  in  all  this  was  the  irresistible  hand  of 
fate.  This  and  many  other  arguments  he  used  to  persuade 
himself  that  it  would  be  altogether  right  for  him  to  give  up 
his  cousin  Anna,  and  take  to  his  bosom  the  beautiful  orphan 
Drusilla. 

And  this  would  have  been  right,  if  he  had  only  chosen  to 
do  it  in  the  right  way.  If  he  had  written  to  his  betrothed 
and  told  her  all  that  he  told  himself,  there  is  no  doubt  that 
she  would  have  gladly  released  him  from  his  engagement ; 
and  then  if  he  had  asked  Drusilla  to  be  his  wife,  and  had 
9 


146  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

married  her  in  the  face  of  all  the  world,  his  course  would 
have  been  upright  and  honorable.  But  he  did  none  of 
these  things.  Alexander  Lyon  was  proud,  and  he  wished 
to  satisfy  his  love,  without  sacrificing  his  pride,  so  he  re 
solved  that  his  marriage  with  the  late  housekeeper's  daugh 
ter,  should  be  a  strictly  secret  one. 

Having  made  up  his  mind,  he  arose  and  walked  into  the 
drawing-room,  where  he  found  Drusilla  still  slowly  pacing 
up  and  down  the  floor. 

"  Why,  you  restless  little  creature  !  One  would  think 
your  thoughts  had  been  as  perturbed  as  my  own.  Come, 
now !  tell  me  truly,  what  you  are  dreaming  of,"  said 
Alexander,  possessing  himself  of  her  hand,  and  drawing 
her  down  by  his  side  on  the  sofa. 

Something  in  his  look  and  manner,  something  that  she 
had  never  seen  there  before,  startled  and  almost  terrified 
her.  For  the  first  time,  in  all  their  association,  a  swift,  hot 
blush  swept  over  her  face  and  neck,  crimsoning  both,  so 
that  Alexander,  already  half  mad  with  love,  thought  her 
more  beautiful  and  bewitching  than  ever. 

"  Come  now  !  of  what  were  you  thinking  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not  know  ;  I  have  forgotten  ; — of  nothing, 
I  believe  ;  I  was  not  thinking ;  I  was — trembling,'7  fal 
tered  the  girl. 

"  Trembling,  my  darling  ?  Why  should  you  tremble  ? 
No  evil  shall  come  near  you  while  I  live,"  said  Alexander, 
tenderly.  "  Come,  tell  me  why  you  were  trembling  ?  " 

"  It  was — but  you  will  laugh  at  me  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  my  sweet 

"  It  was  with  a  sort  of  presentiment  that  oppressed  me," 
said  Drusilla,  in  a  tone  deepened  with  awe. 

"  A  humming-bird  is  said  to  tremble  before  an  approach 
ing  storm,  though  no  cloud  be  in  the  sky.  You  are  as  sen 
sitive  as  a  humming-bird,  my  pet ;  do  you  tremble  at  an 
approaching  storm  ?  "  smiled  Alexander,  gently  caressing 
her. 


JOY     FOR      DRUSILLA.  147 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  shrank  from  him,  yet 
immediately  wondered  at  and  reproached  herself  for  doing 
so. 

"  Come,  my  love,  is  it  a  good  or  evil  presentiment  that 
overawes  you  so  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  even  that  much.  I  have  felt  all  the 
evening  as  if  something  was  hanging  over  me — I  cannot 
tell  what.  Yes,  the  air  is  full  of  electricity,"  she  said,  and 
stopped  and  shuddered. 

"  My  child,  superstitious  people  say  that  dreams  and  pre 
sentiments  go  hy  contraries.  If  you  dream  of  a  death,  it 
is  a  sign  of  a  wedding;  if  you  have  a  forehoding  of  evil,  it 
is  a  sign  some  good  is  about  to  happen  to  you." 

"  But  I  do  not  know  whether  my  foreboding  is  of  good 
or  evil,"  she  said,  softly  smiling. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  then,  my  darling.  It  is  of  both,  since 
it  foreshadows  love  and  marriage,  Drusilla,  he  answered, 
gravely. 

She  started  slightly,  shrank  a  little,  and  raised  her  eyes 
timidly  to  his  face,  but  dropped  them  instantly,  and  blushed 
beneath  the  ardent  gaze  with  which  he  was  regarding  her. 

"  Drusilla,"  he  said,  panting  and  speaking  low,  "  do  you 
know  how  I  love  you  ?  " 

Had  he  asked  her  this  question  a  week  before,  speaking 
in  his  usual  tone,  she  would  have  answered  him  promptly 
and  sweetly  and  calmly. 

But  now  she  only  trembled  very  much,  without  being 
able  to  utter  a  word. 

"  Do  you  know  how  I  love  you,  Drusilla  ?  "  he  panted 
low,  stealing  his  arm  around  her  waist. 

"  Oh,  don't,  sir  !  please  don't !  "  gasped  the  girl,  fright 
ened  at  his  caress. 

"  Don't  what,  my  darling  ?  "  he  whispered,  drawing  her 
closer  to  his  heart. 

"Oh,  don't!  let  me  go,  please!"  she  faltered,  gently 
trying  to  free  herself. 


148  THE      CHANGED      B  HIDES. 

"  '  Don't  let  you  go,  please  ! '  I  don't  intend  to,  my 
beautiful  darling,"  said  Alexander,  passionately  pressing 
his  lips  to  hers. 

At  that  moment  the  door  was  pushed  gently  open  by 
Dorset,  who  entered  with  the  tea-tray,  and  stood  still  in  as 
tonishment. 

"  What  the — ? — What  do  you  want  here  ?  "  angrily 
demanded  Alexander  barely  able  to  repress  an  oath,  as  he 
saw  Dorset  and  hastily  released  Drusilla. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  it  is  the  tea  tray,"  said  the  old  man, 
in  growing  wonder. 

"  Hang  the  tea  tray  !  What  do  you  mean  by  bringing  it 
here  before  it  is  wanted  ?  " 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  it  is  nine  o'clock,  when  I  allers 
brings  it." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  knock  before  entering  a  room  ? 
You  servants  are  perfect  vandals  in  your  rudeness." 

"  Please,  sir,  I  never  was  used  to  knock  in  the  old 
Madam's  time,  so  I  did  not  know  as  I  was  expected  to  do  it 
now ;  but  beg  pardon,  sir,  I  will  allers  knock  for  the 
future." 

"  Put  the  tray  down  and  go. — No,  stay  and  wait," 
growled  Alexander,  beginning  to  feel  conscious  that  if  his 
kiss  was  an  indiscretion,  his  fuss  with  the  old  man's  inter 
ruption  of  it  was  a  still  greater  one. 

Dorset  obediently  sat  the  tray  down  on  the  table, 
arranged  the  tea  service,  bowed,  and  stood  waiting. 

"Drusilla,  my  little  daughter,  you  must  preside,"  said 
Alexander,  trying  to  give  a  paternal  aspect  to  his  affection 
for  the  orphan. 

Drusilla,  blushing  deeply,  took  her  place  at  the  table  and 
poured  out  the  tea. 

Alexander  purposely  kept  his  old  servant  in  waiting  until 
they  had  finished.  Then  he  bid  Dorset  remove  the  service. 

As  soon  as  he  found  himself  alone  with  Drusilla^  he  saw 
that  the  girl  was  trembling  excessively. 


JOY     FOR      DRUSILLA.  149 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  dear  love,  and  don't  distrust  me,"  he 
said,  drawing  his  chair  beside  her.  "  I  asked  you  just  now 
if  you  knew  how  I  loved  you.  You  did  not  reply,  but  I 
will  answer  the  question  for  you.  No,  Drusilla,  you  don't 
know  how  I  love,  for  I  love  you  so  much  that  I  wish  to 
make  you  my  own  forever  and  ever.  Drusilla,  you  must  be 
my  wife,  never  to  be  parted  from  me  again." 

She  looked  up  in  his  face,  her  arched  brows,  dilated  eyes 
and  parted  lips  expressing  amazement,  delight,  and  even 
terror. 

"  You  will  be  my  wife,  Drusilla  ?  "  he  whispered,  drawing 
her  towards  him. 

And  then  her  overwrought  heart  found  relief  in  tears, 
and  she  wept  freely  on  his  bosom.  When  at  length  she 
ceased  to  sob,  and  grew  quiet,  he  bent  his  head  down  to 
hers  and  whispered  : 

"  All  this  means  {  yes,'  does  it  not,  my  own  ?  " 

"  But — but — Miss  Anna  ! "  murmured  the  girl,  scarcely 
trusting  her  voice  to  speak. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Anna "  He  nearly  uttered  an  oath  con 
signing  his  cousin  to  perdition,  but  he  caught  himself  in 
time,  and  added  :  "  Miss  Anna  and  myself  are  parted  (by  a 
hundred  miles  of  space/'')  was  his  mental  reservation  the 
first. 

"  She  has  broken  with  you,  then  ?  "  said  Drusilla,  who 
never  dreamed  of  such  a  possibility  as  his  breaking  faith 
with  any  one. 

"  Yes,  she  has,  (in  effect/')  was  his  mental  reservation 
the  second. 

"  Oh,  how  could — how  could  she  do  it  ?  "  inquired 
Drusilla,  incredulously ;  for  to  her  fond,  worshipping  heart, 
it  seemed  that  any  woman  who  could  break  faith  with 
Alexander  must  be  insane  or  lost. 

"  She  loves  Richard  Hammond's  little  finger  more  than 
she  does  my  immortal  soul !  (Come  that  is  wholly  true,  at 
all  events,")  he  added  mentally. 


150  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  And  you  are  grieved  at  this  ?  "  murmured  the  girl, 
mournfully. 

"  I !  I  grieved  at  it?  I  never  was  so  glad  of  anything  in 
my  life  !  My  child,  I  never  loved  Anna  except  as  a  cousin. 
She  never  loved  me  in  any  other  than  a  cousinly  way.  We 
were  betrothed  by  our  parents — a  sure  process  to  prevent 
our  ever  falling  in  love  with  each  other.  Ours  was  to  be 
'  a  union  of  hands  and  a  union  of  lands/  but  not  '  a  union 
of  hearts.'  We  really  never  wished  to  marry  each  other. 
She  loved  Richard  as  well  as  she  can  love  anybody,  and  I 
— I  love  you  as  I  never  loved  any  other.  Come,  my 
darling,  you  are  to  be  mine  forever." 

"  But  Mr.  Alexander — a  poor  girl  like  myself — your  late 
housekeeper's  child — only  half  educated,  too — I  am  not  fit 
to  be  your  wife,"  she  said,  raising  her  meek  eyes  to  his  face, 
and  then  suddenly  dropping  them. 

"  Not  fit  to  be  my  wife  !  If  you  are  not,  it  is  only  be 
cause  you  are  so  much  too  good  for  me ! "  vehemently  ex 
claimed  Brasilia's  lover,  and  he  spoke  the  truth. 

"  Oh  no  !  Oh  no  !  please  do  not  say  such  things  to  me. 
I  arn  but  a  poor,  ignorant  child,  of  very  humble  position. 
You  are  a  gentleman  of  rank  and  wealth.  Indeed,  sir,  it 
is  not  suitable " 

"  Drusilla  !  You  do  not  love  me  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  if 
he  had  been  charging  her  with  a  great  sin. 

A  year  before,  she  would  have  thrown  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  and  amid  tears  and  caresses,  she  would  have 
assured  him  that  she  loved  him  more  than  all  others  on 
earth.  But  she  could  make  no  such  protestations  now, 
though  her  love  for  him  had  in  this  year  grown  and  strength 
ened,  until  it  absorbed  her  whole  being.  She  could  only 
raise  a  quick  and  quickly  withdrawn  deprecating  glance  to 
his  face. 

lt  Come,  that  means  that  you  do  love  me  a  little.  If  so, 
let  me  be  the  judge  of  your  fitness  to  be  my  wife,"  he 
said,  looking  tenderly  down  on  her  bowed  face. 


JOY     FOR     DRUSILLA.  151 

"  I  know  you  must  be  the  best  judge,"  she  meekly 
admitted. 

"  Then,  it  is  a  settled  thing.  You  are  to  be  my  own,"  he 
whispered. 

"  If  you  think  that  a  poor  girl  like  myself  can  comfort 
you  for  the  loss  of  Miss  Anna — " 

"  Bosh  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  littlt^o.ve.  But  I  don't  need 
comfort  for  the  loss  of  Miss  Anrfl^I  require  congratula 
tions  rather.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  I  never  was  so  glad  of 
anything  in  my  life  ?  And  didn't  I  give  you  half  a  dozen 
reasons  of  being  glad  of  it  ?  I  want  you  to  be  my  love 
and  joy.  Come,  darling,  will  you  be  my  wife?  Try  to 
answer — " 

She  stooped  and  whispered — 

"  I  will  be  anything  you  wish  me  to.  If  you  should  tell 
me  to  go  and  be  a  nun,  I  would  go  and  be  one." 

He  was  not  more  than  half  pleased  with  this  answer, 
which  he  did  not  understand. 

"  So  you  only  consent  to  marry  me  because  I  ask  you  to 
do  it ;  and  not  because  you  love  me,  or  because  to  do  so 
would  make  you  happy  ?  "  he  asked. 

Again  her  shy,  soft  eyes  were  lifted  to  his  face  with  a 
pleading  glance  and  then  cast  down. 

"  Answer  me,  Drusa,"  he  said. 

"  It  would  make  me  happy  to  do  anything  you  should  ask 
me  to  do  ;  for  I  love  to  feel  that  I  belong  to  you,  to  do  your 
bidding ;  and  that  you  bave  a  right  to  dispose  of  me  as 
you  please,"  she  murmured,  in  a  very  low  and  timid 
tone,  hesitating  and  blushing  to  utter  her  own  pure 
thoughts. 

"  This  is  devotion,  this  is  submission,  but  it  may  not  be 
the  love  that  makes  happiness.  Drusilla,  apart  from  all 
this — your  pleasure  in  pleasing  me.  Will  it  make  you  in 
yourself  happy  to  be  my  wife  and  spend  your  whole  life  by 
my  side  ?  "  he  earnestly  inquired. 


152  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  As  happy  as  an  angel  in  Heaven/'  she  aspirated,  in  a 
low  and  fervent  tone. 

He  caught  her  closer  to  his  hosom  and  pressed  her 
there  ;  he  pressed  kisses  on  her  lips,  her  cheeks,  her  brow  ; 
he  called  her  by  every  endearing  name 

There  came  a  gentle,  discreet  knock  at  the  door. 

u  Well !  Who's  there?  Come  in  !  "  said  Mr.  Alexander 
impatiently,  as  he  geH^put  Drusilla  off  his  knee. 

The  door  opened  and  Dorset  appeared. 

"  What  now  ?  I  really  believe  you  are  wantonly  trying 
my  temper  !  "  exclaimed  Alexander. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I  thought  maybe  you  had  retired, 
and  I  came  to  rake  out  the  fire  and  turn  off  the  gas,  as 
usual,  before  going  to  bed  myself." 

"  What !  at  this  hour  ?  " 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  this  is  the  usual  hour." 

Alexander  looked  up  at  the  clock  on  the  mantlepiece, 
and  saw  with  surprise,  that  it  was  past  eleven. 

"  My  little  daughter,  I  have  kept  you  up  too  late.  You 
must  go  to  rest  now.  Good  night,"  he  said,  taking  a  bed 
room  candle  from  the  side  table*,  lighting  it,  and  putting  it 
in  the  hands  of  Drusilla,  who  immediately  withdrew. 

She  went  to  her  room  in  a  delirium  of  joy,  every  nerve 
thrilling,  heart  beating,  brain  whirling  with  joy.  To  be 
Alexander's  wife  !  It  was  a  Heaven  of  Heavens  she  had 
never  dreamed  of.  She  dropped  on  her  knees  beside  her 
bed,  and  fervently  thanked  God  for  her  great  happiness. 


A     KEALLY     HAPPY      BRIDE.  153 


CHAPTEE   XII. 


A    REALLY    HAPPY    BRIDE. 


How  beautiful  she  looked,  her  conscious  heart 
Glowed  in  her  cheek  and  yet  she  felt  iio^wrong. 
Oh,  love,  how  perfect  thy  majcsticart, 
Strengthening  the  weak  and  tu^flftpg  on  the  strong  I 
How  self -deceitful  is  the  sagoJBBBr^ 
Of  mortals  whom  thy  art  hath  lea  along. — BTHON. 


I  SAID  that  joy  takes  away  the  appetite  as  surely  as 
grief  does  ;  and  joy  as  well  as  grief  banishes  repose.  Dru- 
silla  lay  awake,  in  a  happy  reverie,  until  near  morning, 
when  she  fell  into  fitful  slumbers  that  soon  deepened  into 
dreamless  sleep. 

It  was  late  in  the  forenoon  when  she  awoke. 

All !  how  many  of  us  have  awakened  from  such  deep 
insensibility  to  the  consciousness  of  some  heavy  but  unde 
fined  and  half-forgotten  woe,  that  all  too  soon  takes  shape 
and  distinctness  to  confront  and  overwhelm  us ! 

Drusilla,  on  the  contrary,  awoke  in  the  golden  mist  of 
some  great  but  vague  joy,  that  soon  shaped  itself  into  the 
thought  that  she  was  to  be  the  wife  of  one  she  loved  more 
than  her  own  soul,  and  only  less  than  her  God. 

But  such  exultation  of  the  spirit  seldom  lasts  long. 

Before  the  girl  had  finished  her  simple  morning  toilet, 
her  joy  was  sunk  in  remorseful  tenderness  that  she  could 
rejoice  in  anything  so  soon  after  her  poor  mother's  death. 
And  she  wept ;  but  though  less  exultant,  she  was  scarcely 
less  happy. 

She  went  do-wn  into  the  morning  sitting-room.  Alexan 
der  had  waited  for  her,  because  he  would  not  breakfast 
without  her.  He  met  her  with  a  radiant  smile,  and  he 
welcomed  her  with  a  warm  embrace. 

After  breakfast,  he  spoke  to  her  of  his  plans  for  the 
future.  He  told  her  that  he  wished  their  marriage  to  take 
place  almost  immediately. 


154  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

She  timidly  expressed  her  feelings  on  this  subject ;  the 
equal  pain  she  would  feel  in  opposing  his  wishes  on  the  one 
hand,  or,  in  marrying  so  soon  after  her  mother's  death  on 
the  other. 

"  But  why  should  you  feel  pain  at  the  thought  of  marry 
ing  so  soon  after  your  poor  mother's  death,  my  darling  ?  " 
tenderly  inquired  her  lover. 

"  It  would  seem  heUPIs  ;  it  would  seem  disrespectful  to 
her  memory  ?  "  said  the  orphan. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  love.  Daughters  are  sometimes,  when 
expedient,  married  even  beside  the  death-beds  of  their 
mothers.  You  have  heard  or  read  of  such  cases  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"Then  why  should  you  feel  any  scruple  in  marrying,  if 
expedient,  within  a  few  weeks  after  your  dear  mother's 
decease  ?  " 

"  But  is  it  expedient  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  It  is  more.  It  is  absolutely  necessary.  We  must 
immediately  marry,  or PART." 

This  last  word  struck  her  like  a  shot,  as  he  intended  that 
it  should.  She  started,  drew  back,  and  gazed  at  him  in 
consternation. 

"  Drusilla,  my  innocent,  ignorant  child,  does  it  not  occur 
to  you  that  it  would  be  wrong  for  you,  a  young  girl,  and  I, 
a  young  man,  to  live  alone  together,  or  with  only  servants 
in  the  house,  unless  we  were  married  ? "  he  gravely 
inquired. 

She  flushed  crimson  over  face  and  neck,  but  had  no  word 
to  reply. 

"  Drusilla,  we  must  be  married  immediately,"  he  said, 
firmly,  striking  "  while  the  iron  was  hot." 

"  But — so  soon  after  my  poor  mother's  death.  To  be 
made  so  happy,  when  I  ought  to  be  weeping  for  her,"  fal 
tered  the  girl. 

"  My  darling,  you  shall  weep  for  a  year  if  you  like,  so 


A     REALLY     HAPPY     BRIDE.  155 

that  you  weep  in  my  arms,  and  give  me  a  legal  right  to 
hold  you  there.  Come,  Drusilla  !  If  our  wedding  were 
going  to  be  a  gay  one,  with  fine  dresses,  and  fine  company 
and  festivities,  you  might,  indeed,  object  that  it  would  be 
showing  disrespect  to  your  mother's  memory.  But  I  pro 
pose  that  our  wedding  shall  be  a  very  very  quiet  one,  as 
quiet  as  if  it  were  solemnized  at  a  death-bed.  Come,  what 
do  you  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Alexander,  I  know  you  would  not  lead  me  into  the 
least  departure  from  the  duty  I  owe  to  the  memory  of  my 
dear,  lost  mother.  Decide  for  me,  Mr.  Alexander,"  she 
said  very  sweetly. 

il  Then  I  will.  But  leave  out  the  (  Mr.,'  my  darling.  I 
do  not  like  the  formality  of  that  word  from  your  sweet 
lips.  Shall  I  decide  for  you  in  all  things,  my  pet  ?  " 

"  In  all  things,  yes.  Whom  have  I  in  the  world  but 
you  ?  "  she  said,  lifting  her  dove-like  eyes  confidingly  to 
his  face. 

"  No  one  indeed — thank  heaven  ! "  exclaimed  Alexander, 
with  triumph  in  the  thought  of  how  entirely  this  delicate, 
helpless,  dependent  child  lay  in  his  power  and  at  his  mercy. 

The  thought  should  have  awakened  his  magnanimity; 
but,  unhappily,  it  only  flattered  his  selfishness. 

He  did  decide  all  things  for  her.  He  decided  that  their 
marriage  should  be  a  strictly  secret  one;  and  he  gave  her 
plausible  reasons  why  it  must  be  so  ;  but  she  needed  for 
this,  no  other  reason  than  his  will.  He  decided  that  the 
house  in  Richmond  was  too  gloomy  in  its  associations  of 
insanity,  illness,  and  death,  for  their  habitation,  and  that 
they  should  go  to  Washington  to  spend  the  winter.  And 
he  arranged  that  he  himself  should  go  in  advance  to  the 
capital  city  and  secure  a  home  ;  and  that  on  the  receipt  of  a 
certain  letter  which  he  should  write,  she  should  secretly 
leave  the  house  and  join  him  in  Washington. 

To  all  this  Drusilla  readily  agreed.     In  the  fulness  of 


156  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

her  faith  she  had  placed  her  fate  in  his  hands  and  left  ife 
there. 

This  plan  was  carried  out.  The  same  day  he  told  his 
old  servant  that  urgent  business  called  him  away  from 
home,  and  that  he  should  leave  for  Baltimore  the  next 
morning. 

Dorset,  prompt  and  punctual,  had  his  master's  portman 
teau  packed  and  his  breakfast  on  the  table  by  eight  o'clock. 

And  Mr.  Alexander  left  Richmond  by  the  nine  o'clock 
train  for  Baltimore,  intending  to  take  the  next  day's 
train  from  the  latter  city  to  Washington. 

Drusilla  knew  that  she  could  not  hear  from  him  for  three 
or  four  days,  so  she  waited  three  days  and  then  went  to  the 
post-office,  where,  for  greater  secrecy,  her  letters  were  to  be 
left  until  called  for.  Here  she  found  a  letter — the  first 
genuine  love  letter  she  had  ever  received.  She  had,  from 
childhood,  written  many  letters  to  Alexander,  and  received 
many  from  him — all,  his  and  her's,  filled  with  love,  but  not 
such  love  as  this.  Drusilla  eagerly  read  it  over  in  the  office, 
and  then,  "  all  on  fire  with  joy,"  she  hurried  home  and 
locked  herself  in  her  own  room,  to  feast  on  her  letter  undis 
turbed  and  at  leisure. 

Every  day  she  went  to  the  post-office,  and  every  day  she 
received  one  of  these  ardent  outpourings  of  love. 

Alexander  had  been  absent  about  ten  days,  when  one 
morning  on  inquiry,  she  received  a  letter  that  summoned 
her  at  once  to  Washington. 

That  night  Drusilla  quietly  packed  her  carpet  bag  with  a 
few  necessaries,  and  before  day  the  next  morning  she 
slipped  out  of  the  house  and  took  the  early  train  for  Wash 
ington. 

The  train  reached  Alexandria  early  in  the  afternoon,  and 
Drusilla  found  her  lover  on  the  platform  at  the  station. 

"  Come,  dear  love./'  he  said,  "  I  have  a  carriage  waiting. 
We  must  be  married  in  this  town,  and  then  I  will  take  you 
to  Washington." 


A     REALLY     HAPPY     BRIDE.  157 

In  a  flutter  of  delight  and  embarrassment  she  let  him 
take  her  from  the  train  and  place  her  in  the  carriage. 

He  told  the  coachman  to  drive  to  Duke  street,  and  as 
soon  as  the  carriage  was  in  motion,  he  caught  his  bride  in 
his  arms  and  pressed  her  to  his  bosom,  amid  the  fondest 
caresses  and  tenderest  words  of  endearment. 

He  was  interrupted  at  length  by  the  stopping  of  the 
coach,  and  the  voice  of  the  coachman  inquiring : 

"  Where  in  Duke  Street  am  I  to  drive,  if  you  please, 
sir  ?  » 

"To  the  Keverend  Mr.  Hopper's — the  new  Methodist 
preacher's,"  replied  Alexander. 

And  a  few  more  turns  of  the  wheels  brought  the  carriage 
to  the  house  indicated. 

Alexander  lifted  his  trembling  companion  to  the  sidewalk, 
and  then  led  her  up  the  steps  to  the  door  of  Mr.  Hopper's 
residence. 

A  servant  answered  his  knock,  and  showed  him  into  a 
plainly  furnished  parlor,  where  sat  the  preacher  and  the 
family,  dressed  in  their  Sunday's  best,  and  apparently 
waiting  the  bridal  pair. 

Mr.  Hopper  arose  at  once  and  shook  hands  with  the  bride 
groom,  and  presented  him  to  his — the  preacher's — mother 
and  sisters. 

Alexander,  in  turn,  presented  his  bride  to  the  ladies  of 
the  house-. 

Then,  as  no  time  was  to  be  lost,  the  young  pair  stood  up 
side  by  side ;  the  ladies  of  the  party  arranged  themselves 
as  attendants  and  witnesses,  and  the  ceremony  that  made 
Alexander  Lyoii  and  Drusilla  Sterling  man  and  wife  was 
performed. 

When  the  blessing  had  been  pronounced,  Alexander 
saluted  his  "child-wife"  with  the  almost  reverential  ten 
derness  due  to  her  sacred  isolation. 

The  preacher  shook  hands  with  both  and  wished  them 
much  joy. 


158  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Then  the  ladies  of  the  family  came  up  with  their  con 
gratulations. 

The  old  lady  kissed  the  youthful  hride  with  much  feeling, 
saying : 

"  May  the  Lord  bless  you,  poor,  motherless  little  thing  J 
— And  you,  sir,"  she  added,  turning  to  the  bridegroom — 
"  Remember  that  her  extreme  youth  and  her  recent  orphan 
age  claim  a  double  amount  of  tenderness." 

"  I  know  it,  madam  ;  I  feel  it ;  and  I  thank  you  for  the 
interest  you  take  in  my  little  wife,"  said  Alexander. 

He  then  slipped  a  hundred  dollar  note  in  the  preacher's 
hand,  bowed  his  adieux  to  the  whole  party,  and  led  his  bride 
back  to  the  carriage. 

"  I  am  glad  the  dear  old  lady  gave  us  her  blessing.  It 
seemed  to  hallow  our  union,  as  much  as  the  ceremony  did. 
But  I  wonder  how  she  knew  I  was  an  orphan  ? "  said 
Drusilla,  as  they  crossed  the  sidewalk  to  the  carriage  door. 

"  I  told  them  as  much  of  your  circumstances  as  I  deemed 
expedient  to  account  for  your  coming  unattended  by  ladies, 
and  in  a  black  dress,"  said  Alexander,  as  they  paused  while 
the  driver  got  down  and  opened  the  door. 

"  In  a  black  dress  !  So  I  was  married  in  a  black  dress— 
a  black  bombazine  and  crape  dress,  at  that.  The  very 
deepest  sort  of  mourning  ! "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  in  a  low 
tone  and  with  a  terrified  look. 

"  Well,  my  darling,  what  of  that  ?  "  smiled  Alexander. 

"  Oh,  it  is  considered  a  bad  omen  for  any  one,  though 
but  a  guest,  to  wear  a  black  dress,  even  a  black  silk  one,  to 
a  wedding.  And  for  a  bride  to  be  married  in  black,  especi 
ally  in  deep  mourning,  is  the  worst  of  all  omens." 

"  Omens  be — blessed  !  Are  you  so  superstitious,  little 
one  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  who  is  not  ?  I  never  met  any  one  in  my  life  who 
did  not  believe  in  this  omen." 

"  You've    lived  so  long  in  this  world,  you  have !    aoid 


A      REALLY      HAPPY     BRIDE.  159 

you've  met,  so  many  people ! "  laughed  tlie  bridegroom,  as 
he  put  her  into  the  carriage  and  seated  himself  beside  her. 

"  Where  am  I  to  drive  to,  sir,  if  you  please  ?  "  inquired 
the  coachman,  touching  his  hat,  as  he  held  the  door  open. 

"  Are  your  horses  fresh  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Lyon. 

"  Quite  so,  sir." 

"  Can  they  take  us  to  Washington  ?  The  distance  by 
the  river-road  is  nine  miles,  I  think." 

"  Bless  you,  yes,  sir  !  why  they  can  take  you  to  Wash 
ington,  which  is  nine  miles,  and  afterwards  to  Bladensburg, 
which  is  nine  more,  with  the  greatest  of  ease." 

"  All  right— drive  to  Washington." 

The  coachman  closed  the  door,  mounted  to  his  box  and 
started. 

An  hour's  drive  along  the  beautiful  wooded  road,  follow 
ing  the  south  bank  of  the  Potomac,  brought  the  travellers 
to  the  Long  Bridge. 

They  crossed  the  river  by  that  bridge  and  entered  the 
city. 

The  near  view  of  Washington  from  that  point  is  not  en 
couraging. 

Alexander  felt  this  as  he  bade  his  young  companion  look 
beyond  the  flats  of  the  "island"  and  behold  the  distant 
and  majestic  hill  upon  the  summit  of  which  rises  our 
Capitol. 

The  sun  declined  towards  his  setting,  shone  full  upon 
the  building's  western  front,  whose  walls  of  white  freestone 
and  windows  of  crystal  glass  flashed  back  the  rays,  "  in  lines 
of  dazzling  light." 

Brasilia  uttered  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  ;  but  was  in 
terrupted  by  the  stopping  of  the  carriage,  and  the  appear 
ance  of  the  coachman  at  the  door,  inquiring : 

"Where  now,  if  you  please,  sir?" 

"  To  Seventh  street  north;  and  out  by  that  road  tc  the 
suburbs  of  the  city." 


160  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

The  coachman  re-mounted  his  box  and  started  his  horses 
once  more.  They  crossed  the  canal  bridge  near  the  centre- 
market,  and  crossed  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  and  as  they  went 
on,  Alexander  pointed  out  to  hi|  companion,  all  the  objects 
of  interest  within  the  range  of  their  vision — a  nearer  view 
of  the  Capitol,  then  the  General  Post-Office,  the  National 
Patent  Office,  etc. 

A  half  hour's  drive  up  Seventh  street  north,  took  them 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  city,  and  into  the  wild,  picturesque 
and  beautiful  suburbs. 

The  wilderness  surroundings  of  our  National  Capitol 
have  often  been  admired  by  strangers  who  are  lovers  of 
nature,  and  reproached  by  others  who  can  see  no  beauty  in 
anj^thing  but  miles  of  brick  walls  and  busy  shops,  or  acres 
of  ploughed  fields  and  growing  crops.  We  "'to  the  manor 
born,"  love  the  wild  woods  and  rocks  and  waterfalls  so  near, 
as  to  be  even  within  the  limits  of  our  city.  A  half  hour's 
drive  from  the  Capitol  in  any  direction  will  take  the  travel 
ler  into  solitudes  as  deep  as  he  can  find  anywhere  west  of 
the  Alleghanies. 

A  half  hour's  drive  up  Seventh  street  north  took  our 
happy  pair  quite  into  what  seemed  a  country  road. 

It  was  bordered  on  the  western  side  by  evergreen  woods, 
through  which  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  shining 
and  tipping  every  dark-hued  leaf  and  twig  with  golden 
fire ;  and  on  the  north  by  groves  and  fields  and  streams, 
with  here  and  there  a  solitary,  but  cheerful  cottage  from 
whose  windows  the  "  household  fires  gleamed  warm  and 
bright." 

Presently,  Alexander  pulled  the  check-string  and  ordered 
the  driver  to  turn  into  an  obscure  road  or  lane,  leading  into 
the  cedar  wood  on  the  left. 

"  You  have  never  asked  me  where  I  am  taking  you  to, 
my  darling,"  said  Alexander,  when  they  had  gone  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  into  the  woods. 


A      REALLY      HAPPY      BRIDE.  161 

''  No  j  because  my  trust  in  you  is  so  perfect." 

"  Had  you  no  curiosity  ?  " 

"  Oil  yes  ;  but  I  thought  you  would  tell  me  when  you 
should  see  fit ;  arid  I  knew  that  I  should  find  out  when  we 
should  reach  the  spot.  I  am  very  much  pleased,  however, 
that  our  home  will  be  in  the  country." 

"Not  the  country,  darling,  though  it  looks  so  much  like 
it ;  only  the  suburbs  of  the  city." 

"  It  is  all  the  same  to  me,  and  I  am  so  glad  we  are  to  live 
among  the  trees." 

"  I  knew  you  would  be,  love,  and  so  I  chose  our  home  in 
this  neighborhood." 

"  But  shall  you  not  be  lonesome,  so  far  from  the  city  ; 
you,  who  are  so  fond  of  plays  and  concerts  and  operas  ?  " 

"  No,  mine  own.  I  shall  be  lonesome  nowhere,  with  you 
by  my  side.  Besides,  thirty  minutes'  drive  would  take  us 
any  evening  to  any  place  of  amusement  we  might  wish  to 
attend  in  the  city.  But  here  we  are  at  home  ! "  he  said, 
pulling  the  check-string  and  stopping  the  carriage  at  a  rustic 
gate  that  crossed  the  lane  in  the  very  midst  of  the  wood. 

Some  one  issued  from  a  very  small  poster's  lodge  on  the 
right  and  opened  the  gate.  They  entered  upon  a  semi 
circular  drive,  bordered  on  each  side  by  cedar-trees,  that  led 
them  up  to  the  front  of  a  picturesque  cottage  ornee,  built  in 
a  sort  of  composite  style. 

From  every  pretty  latticed  window  of  this  little  dwelling, 
the  lights  of  fires  and  of  lamps  gleamed  warm  welcome. 

"  Oh,  what  a  lovely  little  wildwood  home  ! "  exclaimed 
Drusilla  in  delight,  as  Alexander  lifted  her  from  the  car 
riage  and  seated  her  on  a  bench  of  the  little  rustic  porch. 

" '  Business  before  pleasure,'  my  darling,  he  said,  leaving 
her  there,  and  going  back  to  dismiss  the  carriage. 

He  was  happy  and  therefore  he  was  extravagant.  He 
never  asked  the  coachman  the  price  of  his  services,  but  put 
in  his  hand  a  twenty  dollar  bank  note,  about  twici-  the 
10 


162  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

amount  of  his  fare ;  and  when  the  latter  fumbled  in  his 
pocket-book,  said  quickly : 

"  No,  I  don't  want  any  change  !  It  is  now  about  five 
o'clock ;  you  can  easily  get  back  to  Alexandria  by  seven. 
Good  night." 

The  coachman  was  profuse  in  his  thanks,  and  hoped  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  driving  his  honor  often.  And  he 
mounted  his  box  and  drove  off,  no  doubt  wishing  that  he 
could  have  a  bridal  party  for  a  fare  every  day  of  his  life. 

And  the  bridegroom  led  his  bride  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE     CHILD    BRIDE    AT    HOME. 

His  house  she  enters  there  to  be  the  light, 

Shining  within  when  all  without  is  night; 

A  guardian  aiigel  o'er  his  life  presiding, 

Doubling  his  pleasures,  and  his  cares  dividing.— ROGERS. 

"WELCOME,  mine  own  dear  love,  welcome  to  your  home," 
fervently  whispered  Alexander,  as  he  led  his  bride  across 
the  threshold  of  the  door  that  was  held  open  by  a  pretty 
and  neatly-dressed  negro  girl. 

The  young  wife  smiled  gratefully  upon  her  husband,  and 
then  looked  around  with  child-like  interest. 

They  stood  in  a  cheerful  little  hall,  illuminated  by  an 
antique  lamp  in  a  stained  glass  shade,  that  shed  myriads  of 
prismatic  hues  over  the  white  and  gilded  wall  and  richly- 
carpeted  floor.  It  was  a  hexagon  shaped  hall,  with  a  stair 
case  opposite  the  front  door,  and  with  four  other  doors,  two 
on  each  side,  opening  into  the  drawing-room  and  dining- 
room  on  the  right,  and  the  parlor  and  library  on  the  left. 

"  This  is  your  little  maid,  Pina,  my  dear,  and  she  will 
show  you  to  your  room,  if  you  please,"  said  Alexander. 


THE   CHILD   BRIDE   AT   HOME.    163 

Drusilla  turned  and  smiled  kindly  on  the  bright-eyed 
negro  girl,  who  took  up  a  wax  caudle,  and  stood  courtesying 
and  waiting  orders. 

"Go  on  then,  Pina,  and  lead  the  way;  I  will  follow," 
said  Drusilla. 

And  Alexander  placed  the  carpet  bag  that  contained  all 
the  bride's  trosseau  in  the  hands  of  the  girl,  who,  with 
another  curtsey,  turned  and  led  the  way  up  stairs  to  an 
upper  hexagon-shaped  hall,  with  a  bay  window  in  the  front 
end,  and  four  doors,  two  on  each  side,  leading  into  bedrooms 
and  dressing-rooms. 

Pina  opened  the  front  door  on  the  right  hand. 

"  Oh,  what  a  sweet,  what  a  pretty,  what  a  delightful  lit 
tle  room  !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  on  passing  the  threshold. 

The  room  deserved  her  praise.  It  had  been  designed  by 
the  hands  of  love  to  please  the  eyes  of  beauty.  Its  colors 
were  white  and  rose.  The  walls  were  hung  with  a  paper  of 
a  white  ground,  with  a  running  vine  of  wild  roses  over  it. 
The  floor  was  covered  with  a  carpet  white  with  the  same 
patterns  of  wild  roses  running  over  it.  The  windows  were 
curtained  with  white  lace,  lined  with  rose-colored  silk.  The 
dressing-table  that  stood  between  the  windows  wras  draped 
to  match  them,  in  white  lace  over  rose  silk.  The  bed  was 
spread  with  a  white  crochet  counterpane,  lined  with  rose 
satin.  The  chairs  and  sofas  were  covered  with  white 
damask  embroidered  in  roses.  All  the  little  stands  and 
tables  were  in  white  and  rose  enamel. 

It  was  a  chamber  to  delight  a  child  or  a  young  girl.  To 
crown  all,  a  clear,  bright  wood  fire  was  burning  on  the 
white  marble  hearth. 

"  It  is — it  is  a  heavenly  little  room  !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla 
gazing  around. 

"  And  here,  ma'am,  is  the  dressing  place,"  continued  the 
maid,  opening  an  inner  door,  and  showing  her  mistress  into 
a  smaller  apartment  fitted  up  in  a  plainer  style  as  a  bath 
room. 


104  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

The  young  traveller,  who  really  needed  ablutions  after 
her  dusty  ride  in  the  train,  opened  her  carpet  bag,  took  out 
her  dressing  materials,  and  commenced  her  toilet. 

Pina  waited  on  her. 

But  little  change  could  the  poor  bride  make.  Her  car 
pet  bag  could  not  contain  much.  She  had  only  brought  a 
few  clean  linen  collars,  cuffs,  handkerchiefs,  and  other  abso 
lute  essentials. 

Seeing  this,  her  handmaid  said  : 

"  Let  me  carry  your  dress  down  stairs  and  brush  it, 
ina'am  :  it  won't  take  me  ten  minutes.  I  will  bring  it  up 
quite  nice  by  the  time  you  are  ready  to  put  it  on  again." 

Drusilla  thanked  the  little  maid,  and  accepted  the  offer. 
And  Pina  ran  away  with  the  dress.  And  by  the  time 
Drusilla  had  taken  her  bath  and  dressed  her  hair  the  girl 
returned  with  the  renovated  garment. 

"  Supper  will  be  served,  ma'am,  as  soon  as  you  are  ready 
for  it,"  said  Pina,  laying  the  dress  over  the  back  of  a  chair. 

Drusilla  carefully  but  hastily  completed  her  toilet,  for  she 
was  eager  to  see  Alexander  and  thank  him  for  the  care  and 
taste  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  fitting  up  of  her  rooms. 

As  she  left  her  chamber  she  found  Alexander  in  the 
hexagon-shaped  hall  outside.  He  smiled,  and  took  her  arm, 
saying: 

"  While  they  are  placing  supper  on  the  table  I  wish  to 
show  you  over  our  little  toy  palace — for  it  ia  no  more." 

"  And  no  less  !  Oh,  how  I  thank  you  for  the  beauti 
ful—" 

"  Doll's-house  !  "  laughed  Alexander,  stopping  his  bride 
in  the  outpouring  of  her  gratitude. 

"  Oh,  but  the  rooms  are  so  very  beautiful ! "  she  ex 
claimed. 

"  Why,  you  have  seen  but  two  !  Come,  let  me  show  you 
the  others,"  he  said,  taking  her  across  the  little  hall,  and 
opening  an  opposite  door. 


THE      CHILD      BRIDE      AT      HOME.          105 

The  apartment  they  now  entered  corresponded  in  all 
respects  to  her  chamber,  except  that  it  was  fitted  up  as  a 
sewing-room,  and  its  wall  paper,  window  curtains,  chair- 
covers,  carpet  and  enamelled  stands  and  tables  were  all  in 
white  and  green  instead  of  white  and  rose. 

"  See  here,  my  love  !  I  remember  what  a  domestic  little 
creature  you  were,  how  you  liked  to  sit  up  stairs  and  sew 
by  the  hour  or  the  day,  and  how  the  very  first  thing  you 
ever  wished  for  was  a  work-box,  and  so  I  had  this  room  fitted 
up  for  you  on  purpose,"  said  Alexander,  looking  in  her  face 
to  read  her  satisfaction. 

"  Oh,  how  good,  how  good  you  are  to  me  !  What  can  I 
ever  do  to  please  you  enough,"  she  said. 

"  Love  me  dearly,  and  be  very  happy  !  That  is  all  I  ask 
you  to  do,"  he  replied.  "And  now  look  here,  dear,  I  knew 
your  wardrobe  would  want  complete  refitting,  and  I  knew 
what  a  nice  little  needle-woman  you  were,  so  I  have  filled 
these  bureau  drawers  and  wardrobes  with  dress  goods  of 
every  description — enough  to  furnish  forth  an  Indian  voyage 
or  a  country  shop,"  he  said,  as  he  went  to  one  of  the 
bureaus  and  drew  out  the  drawers,  one  after  another,  to 
display  their  contents — rich  silk,  merino,  and  cashmere  dress 
patterns,  all  in  black,  purple,  or  gray,  or  other  mourning  or 
half  mourning  hues  ;  and  whole  pieces  of  fine  muslin,  linen, 
flannel,  and  other  "  staple  "  commodities,  and  rolls  of  ribbon, 
tape,  gimp,  and  other  dress  trimmings. 

"  You  know  I  had  no  woman's  help  in  selecting  these 
articles,  and  a  man  in  a  milliner's  establishment  is  just 
about  us  much  out  of  place  as  a  t  bull  in  a  china  shop,' 
but  I  did  the  best  I  could." 

"  They  are  beautiful,"  said  Drusilla,  in  grateful  delight. 

"And  see  here,"  continued  Alexander,  opening  the  doors 
of  a  wardrobe — and  displaying  several  shawls,  cloaks,  circu 
lars,  mantillas  and  so  forth — "  as  these  things  fit  almost  any 
grown  woman,  I  thought  I  could  not  make  a  mistake  in 
getting  them  ready-made.  What  do  you  think  ?  " 


166  THE      CHANGED     13  II  IDES. 

"  Oh,  yon — you  are  too  good  to  me  ;  you  are  extravagant 
• — here  are  more  than  I  shall  wear  in  ten  years,"  said  Dru- 
silla,  between  smiles  and  tears. 

"  Not  at  all !  There's  Anna  will  wear  twice  as  many 
changes  of  apparel  in  ten  days,"  he  said. 

"  Ah,  but  Miss  Anna  is  an  heiress." 

"  And  you  are  the  wife  of  a — ivealthy  man,  if  not  a  good 
one,"  laughed  Alexander.  "  But  come,  I  dare  say  supper 
is  waiting  and  spoiling.  I  will  show  you  the  rest  of  your 
little  house  to-morrow,  and  also  your  little  carriage  and  pair 
of  ponies " 

"  Oh,  indeed  you  do  too  much  for  me. — I  think  I  have 
not  been  used  to  having  such  things — of  my  own,"  said 
Drusilla,  meekly  and  confusedly. 

"  I  could  not  do  too  much  for  you,  dear  love " 

"  But,  Mr.  Alexander— 

"Leave  out  the  'Mr.'  from  this  time,  sweet  Drusa. 
What  were  you  going  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  was  about  to  ask  you,  please,  not  to  make  me  so  many 
presents." 

"  Oh,  is  that  it  ?     Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because — I  love  you.  And — I  only  want  you  to  give 
me  your  love " 

"  I  know  all  that,  my  pet.  But  let  your  conscience  be  at 
rest.  Every  thing  I  seem  to  give  you,  as  well  as  every  thing 
you  have  of  your  own  is  really  not  yours,  but  mine,  because 
you  yourself  are  mine." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  she  smilingly  inquired. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  so  I  would  have  it ! " 

While  they  talked  they  left  the  room,  he  leading  the  way 
down  the  stairs,  to  the  little  drawing-room. 

This  was  a  very  elegant  apartment,  fitted  up  in  crimson 
and  gold  curtains,  chairs  and  sofas,  rich  mirrors  and  rare 
paintings,  and  recherche"  articles  of  virtu.  At  the  lower 


THE      WILD      WOOD      HOME.  167 

end  of  the  room  a  heavy  curtain  of  crimson  satin  damask, 
with  gold  bullion  fringe  and  gold  cord  and  tassels,  hung 
from  the  ceiling  to  floor. 

While  Drusilla  was  still  gazing  with  curiosity  and  delight 
upon  the  various  objects  of  interest  in  the  room,  this  cur 
tain  was  drawn  aside  as  by  invisible  hands,  revealing  an 
elegant  little  dining-room,  where  a  luxurious  supper  was 
spread. 

Alexander,  with  a  laughing  assumption  of  ceremony,  led 
Drusilla  to  the  head  of  the  table,  bowed,  and  took  his  place 
at  the  foot. 

A  handsome  negro  boy,  so  like  Pina  as  to  be  recognizable 
at  once  for  her  brother,  waited  at  table. 

"My  dear,  this  is  your  other  servant — footman,  coach 
man,  and  groom — all  in  one.  He  is  named  Leander ;  but 
for  convenience  we  shall  call  him  f  Leo.'  Just  as  we  call 
his  sister,  who  exults  in  the  imperial  name  of  Agrippina, 
simply  t  Piria, '  "  said  Alexander,  as  he  placed  the  breast  of 
a  roast  pheasant  on  Brasilia's  plate. 

It  was  a  pleasant  supper,  as  you  may  judge. 

And  it  was  followed  by  a  happy  evening. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   WILD    WOOD    HOME    BY    DAT. 

It  is  a  quiet  picture  of  delight, 

The  pretty  cottage  hiding  from  the  sun 

In  the  thick  woods.    We  see  it  not  till  there, 

When  at  its  porch  .  .  .  quiet's  especial  temple.— W.  G.  SIMMS. 

a  I  have  the  vaguest  idea  of  the  outside  of  our  home — a 
pretty  brown  cottage  in  evergreen  woods — that  was  all  I 
could  make  out  as  we  approached  it  in  the  twilight  last 
evening ;  and  that  is  all  I  can  make  out  now,  while  peering 


168  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

through  that  crimson  curtained  window/'  said  Brasilia,  as 
she  sat  at  breakfast  with  her  husband  the  next  morning. 

u  (  A  pretty  brown  cottage,  in  evergreen  woods.'  Well, 
that  is  all  you  would  make  out  if  you  were  to  inspect  the 
premises  most  carefully  every  day  for  a  month.  It  is  a 
new  place,  my  little  love.  The  house  and  stable  only  are 
finished  and  walled  in.  The  grounds  are  not  laid  out  or 
even  cleared,  as  you  may  see  by  the  thicket  crowding  up  to 
the  very  windows,"  replied  Alexander. 

"  But,  I  think  I  like  it  even  better  just  so.  There  is 
something  very  fascinating  to  me  in  the  deep,  wild  wood, 
where  the  trees  may  grow  as  they  please,  without  touch  of 
ax  OT  pruning  knife,  and  where  birds  may  sing  and  rabbits 
run  without  fear  of  trap  or  fowling-piece,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  Then  if  that  be  so,  not  a  tree  shall  be  felled,  though  we 
should  have  to  send  to  the  city  market  for  all  our  fruit  and 
vegetables,"  laughed  Alexander. 

"  Oh  no,  no,  no  ;  don't  '  Woodman,  Spare  That  Tree  '  on 
my  account.  The  woods  are  very  charming,  but  so  is  a 
garden  with  beds  of  growing  vegetables  and  parterres  of 
blooming  flowers;  and  so  are  vineyards  and  orchards,  and 
poultry-yards  and  cow-pens,  none  of  which  can  be  had 
without  the  sacrifice  of  the  woods.  And  you  know  what  a 

good  little  farmer  your  dear  mother Here  the  tears 

rushed  to  the  bride's  eyes,  but  she  quickly  wiped  them  away 
and  smiled,  saying  :  "  'No,  I  will  not  weep  the  day  after  our 
wedding.  I  will  remember  that  she  is  in  Heaven,  and — 
happy  as  we  may  be,  she  is  happier  still." 

"  But  what  were  you  about  to  say,  love,  when  you  broke 
off?  "  gravely  and  gently  inquired  Alexander. 

"  Oh,  I  was  going  to  remind  you  what  a  skillful  little 
farmer  jour  dear  mother  had  made  of  me,  and  to  tell  you 
how  well  I  can  manage  a  little  place  like  this,  with  the 
help  of  the  two  servants." 

"  Yes,  darling  j  but  you  will  not  need  to  do  so.     What  ? 


THE     WILD      WOOD      HOME.  169 

You  worry  with  the  cultivation  of  cabbage  and  onions,  and 
the  rearing  of  fowls  and  turkeys,  and  the  feeding  of  cows 
and  pigs  ?  It  is  ridiculous,  the  idea  !  " 

"  But  your  dear  mother  saw  to  all  such  things  with  her 
own  eyes,  and  often  helped  among  them  with  her  own 
hands." 

"  My  venerated  mother  belonged  to  an  old  school  of 
housekeepers  that  are  now  obsolete,  or  fast  passing  away 
before  the  progress  of  civilization.  Machinery  does  the 
work  of  laborers,  and  laborers  have  become  intelligent  direc 
tors  of  machinery.  Nonsense !  Even  if  this  were  not  so, 
do  you  think  I  would  let  you  spoil  your  exquisite  beauty  in 
the  way  you  propose,  Drusa  ?  No,  my  darling,  your  beauty 
is  too  rare  and  rich  to  be  put  to  any  such  uses.  I  think 
that  even  if  I  were  a  very  poor  man,  I  would  rather  labor 
day  and  night  than  you  should  soil  your  pretty  hands,"  he 
whispered,  lifting  one  of  the  little  members  of  which  he 
spoke,  and  gazing  on  it  with  the  eyes  of  a  connoisseur  and 
the  smile  of  a  lover. 

"  Oh,  Alexander  !  dear  Alexander  !  "  said  the  little  bride, 
earnestly,  "  please  do  not  prize  my  looks  so  much.  It 
frightens  me  when  you  do  so." 

"  But  why  ?  "  smiled  the  bridegroom. 

"  Oh,  because — one's  looks " 

li  One's  beauty,  you  mean " 

"  Oh,  Alexander,  it  is  such  an  accidental  and  perishable 
thing  to  be  loved  for.  Illness  or  chance  might  destroy  it  in 
a  day  ;  and  time  will  certainly  impair  it  in  the  course  of 
years.  And  whether  I  lose  it  sooner  or  later,  what  shall  I 
do  if  I  lose  your  love  also  ?  " 

This  was  spoken  so  gravely  and  feelingly  that  the  bride, 
groom  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  Why  you  solemn  little  quiz  !  You  remind  me  of  a 
little  prig  of  a  Sunday-school  scholar  that  I*  used  to  see 
perched  up  in  the  corner  of  the  housekeeper's  room  in  my 


170  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

mother's  house  in  Richmond.  A  little  'rum  un'  who  used 
to  sew  quilt-pieces  and  lecture  lost  sheep." 

"  But  oh,  tell  me  one  thing.  Even  if  I  should  grow 
ugly,  you  would  love  me  still,  would  you  not,  Alexander  ?  " 

"  You  grow  ugly  ?  impossible  !  Your  beauty,  if  you 
take  common  care  of  it,  will  last  you  until  you  are  sixty 
years  old,  and  by  that  time,  I,  who  am  so  much  your  senior, 
will  be  so  blind  with  age,  or  love,  or  habit,  that  I  shall  not 
know  whether  you  are  a  Venus  or  a  Gorgon,"  said  Alex 
ander,  laughing,  and  rising  from  the  table. 

"  Till  I  am  sixty  !  So  many  years  to  live  together,  you 
and  I,  if  "Heaven  should  spare  us.  Such  a  long  and  happy 
life,  if  you  only  love  me  all  the  time.  Oh,  what  can  I  do 
to  keep  you  loving  me  all  these  long,  long  j^ears  ?  "  aspira 
ted  Drusilla,  in  a  sort  of  repressed  fervor. 

"  Be  beautiful,  be  happy  and  love  me — that  is  all,"  he 
answered.  tf  And  now  put  on  some  outer-  garment  and 
come  with  me,  and  I  will  show  you  what  little  is  to  be  seen 
of  our  small  place." 

Drusilla  took  a  gray  hooded  cloak  from  the  hands  of  the 
maid  who  had  run  and  fetched  it  for  her,  and  she  wrapped 
herself  in  it,  drew  the  hood  over  her  head,  and  took  the 
offered  arm  of  Alexander. 

He  led  her  out  of  the  front  door  and  down  the  step  of 
the  porch  to  the  broad  carriage  drive  that  had  been  cleared 
through  the  cedars  from  the  house  to  the  gate. 

It  was  a  fine  wintry  day.  A  little  snow  had  fallen  during 
the  night,  just  sufficient  to  cover  the  ground  with  a  white 
garment  and  powder  the  cedars  like  coachmen's  wigs ;  but 
the  sky  was  now  clear  and  the  sun  bright. 

They  walked  down  the  drive  to  the  gate,  and  then,  at 
Alexander's  suggestion,  turned  about  and  leaned  against  the 
gate,  and  faced  the  front  of  the  cottage  to  take  a  look  at  it. 

"  A  mere  £oy  palace,  or  doll's  house,  as  I  told  you/'  said 
Alexander,  disparagingly. 


THE     WILD      WOOD      HOME.  171 

"  It  is  a  beauty.  But  perhaps  you  are  comparing  it  with 
spacious  Crowood  or  lofty  Lyon  Hall ;  in  which  case  it  must 
suffer  by  comparison  in  size,  I  grant  you,  but  not  in 
beauty,"  said  Drusilla,  gazing  on  her  home  with  perfect 
satisfaction. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  approve  of  it,  darling,  even  in  its 
half  finished  condition.  In  another  year  I  will  see  what 
money  and  taste  can  do  to  convert  it  into  a  paradise  for 
you,"  said  Alexander. 

"  The  sweet  spot  is  Arcadia  already.  But  how  were  you 
so  fortunate  as  to  get  it,  dear  Alexander  ?  And  have  you 
rented  it,  or  bought  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  taken  it  on  trial  for  a  year,  with  the  privilege  of 
purchasing  it,  if  I  like  it,  at  the  end  of  that  time." 

"  But  why  does  the  owner  wish  to  sell  such  a  pretty  place, 
which  he  has  only  just  built  ?  " 

"  Ah,  love,  it  is  a  common  case.  The  place  was  com 
menced  by  a  poor  old  fellow,  who  was  about  to  retire  from 
business  on  a  comfortable  competency.  But  he  put  off 
living  too  long,  for  just  as  he  was  preparing  to  do  it  he 
died." 

"Poor  man  !  and  he  never  enjoyed  the  pretty  place." 

"  Let  us  hope  that  he  enjoys  a  better  one.  Meanwhile 
we  have  the  privilege  of  purchasing  it,  if  we  like." 

"  Oh,  I  do  like  it  so  much  ! " 

u  Then  consider  it  purchased,  my  pet." 

(( Not  on  my  account.  Oh,  Alexander,  dear,  please  do 
always  what  you  judge  to  be  best  without  thinking  of  me 
in  the  matter." 

"  But,  darling,  if  I  love  you  as  you  wish  me  to  do,  and 
as  I  certainly  do,  I  must  think  of  your  pleasure  in  every 
thing." 

She  looked  at  him,  secretly  acknowledging  the  truth  of 
his  words,  yet  much  perplexed  by  them. 

The  house  upon  which  they  gazed,  incomplete  as  were  its 
surroundings,  deserved  all  Drusilla's  praise. 


172  THE      C  H  A  IS7  G  E  D      BRIDES. 

It  was  a  charming  little  cottage  ornee,  which,  if  the 
truth  may  be  spoken,  was  much  more  suitable  as  the  home 
of  a  fresh  young  bride  than  the  resting-place  of  a  worn-out 
old  worldling.  It  was  built  after  no  particular  plan,  and 
therefore  perhaps  all  the  more  picturesque  and  pleasing  in 
its  aspect.  It  was  so  irregularly  and  fantastically  erected 
as  to  defy  all  manner  of  description.  From  the  outside  it 
seemed  an  eccentric  collection  of  low  walls  and  steep  roofs, 
gable  ends,  twisted  chimneys,  hanging  balconies,  bay- 
windows,  porches,  verandahs,  and  so  forth.  Its  dark  gray 
stone  walls  and  dark  green  Venetian  shutters  and  pillars 
and  cornices,  so  harmonized  in  hue  with  the  colors  of  the 
wintry  woods,  as  at  a  short  distance  to  mingle  with  them 
and  be  indistinguishable  from  them.  Such  was  the  outside 
of  Drusilla's  little  home. 

The  inside  was  a  collection  of  hexagon  shaped  halls, 
chambers,  parlors,  quaint  closets,  cosy  recesses  and  sunny 
nooks. 

"  Now  I  will  take  you  round  and  show  you  the  stable  and 
the  cow-house,"  said  Alexander,  drawing  his  wife's  arm 
within  his  own,  and  leading  her  around  to  the  rear  of  the 
house  where,  in  a  neat  and  well  kept  stable,  he  showed  her 
a  pretty  pair  of  gray  ponies  and  a  neat  little  carriage. 

She  looked  up  in  his  face  to  thank  him  with  her  eyes,  but 
when  she  would  have  spoken,  he  stopped  her  with  a  kiss. 

Then  he  took  her  to  an  adjoining  compartment  of  the 
same  building,  and  showed  her  a  white  cow  with  a  young 
calf  beside  her. 

"I  can  not  thank  you  enough  ;  no,  I  can  not — not  onty 
for  all  that  you  have  given  me,  but  for  the  leauty  of  every 
object  and  every  living  creature  you  have  placed  around  me 
— the  beautiful  house  and  furniture,  the  beautiful  carriage 
and  ponies,  the  pretty  white  cow  and  calf.  D^ar  Alexander, 
I  thank  you  so  much  for  all  the  beauty  with  which  you  have 
blessed  my  home,"  smiled  and  faltered  Drusilla,  in  a  voice 
broken  by  happy  emotions. 


THE     WILD      WOOD      HOME.  173 

t{  Beauty  !  why  who  was  it  that,  just  now,  begged  and 
prayed  me  not  to  love  her  for  her  beauty  ?  "  asked  Alex 
ander,  quizzingly. 

"  It  was  I,  of  course,"  said  Drusilla,  blushing  and  laugh 
ing,  "but  that  was  because  I  wished  you  to  love  me  for 
something  deeper  and  more  lasting." 

"  And  so  I  do,  darling  ;  but  come — confess  that  you  like 
beautiful  things — that  you  like  even  me  better  for  not  being 
ill-looking." 

"  Oh,  Alexander,  not  you  !  it  was  never  your  looks, 
although  I  like  you  to  be  handsome.  But  oh,  dear  Alick,  if 
you  were  to  be  maimed  by  accident  or  marked  by  illness,  I 
should  love- you  quite  as  much  as  I  do  now,  and  even  more 
tenderly,  I  think,  as  I  know  I  shall  love  you  when  you  are 
old  and  gray." 

"  Bah!  I  would  rather  die  than  grow  old  and  gray  ;  but 
the  time  for  that  is  far  enough  off,  thank  Heaven  !  "  said 
Alexander,  as  he  led.  her  back  into  the  house. 

He  took  her  into  the  drawing-room  and  showed  her  three 
musical  instruments,  each  of  the  very  best  quality— a  piano, 
a  harp  and  a  guitar.  Upon  a  stand  near  was  a  collection  of 
old  standard  music,  and  of  all  the  best  new  pieces  out. 

I  suppose  no  one  but  a  monomaniac  in  music  can  under 
stand  the  delight  of  sitting  down  and  trying  the  tone  of  a 
new  instrument  of  the  very  best  order. 

Drusilla  placed  herself  at  the  piano,  and  ran  her  fingers 
up  and  down  the  keys  to  test  its  powers.  And  then  she 
turned  over  her  music  and  sang  song  after  song,  for  hour 
after  hour,  without  weariness.  And  Alexander  leaned  over 
her,  and  listened  to  her  without  flagging. 

When  at  length  she  arose  from  the  piano,  he  led  her 
from  the  drawing-room  and  across  the  hexagon  hall  to. an 
opposite  room,  fitted  up  as  a  library.  Here,  in  the  elegant 
book  cases,  were  collected  some  of  the  best  standard  works 
in  English,  French  and  German,  also  some  choice  Latiu 


174  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

and  Greek  volumes,  and  a  few  of  the  most  popular  publica 
tions  of  the  day. 

Here  were  neat  writing  desks,  easy  reading  chairs,  soft 
foot  cushions,  and  every  means  and  appliance  of  comfort 
and  luxury. 

And  on  the  walls  were  a  few  very  choice  pictures,  and  on 
stands  stood  statuettes  and  vases  and  other  gems  of  art,  to 
please  a  cultivated  taste. 

"  No  words — you  leave  me  no  words  to  thank  you  for  all 
these  blessings,"  Drusilla  murmured. 

"  I  tell  you  they  are  all  mine  as  you  are  mine,  so  there 
are  no  words  wanted  for  thanks,"  smiled  Alexander. 

"Ah  !  but  I  know  you  did  all  this  for  me  ;  I  feel  it  and 
I  must  say  it,  Alick,  dear  Alick,"  she  murmured,  with  tears 
of  love  and  joy  in  her  eyes. 

All  the  time  they  were  in  the  library  they  heard  the 
songs  of  birds — a  sound  so  unusual  in  that  wintry  season, 
that  Drusilla  had  looked  up  once  or  twice  with  a  startled 
expression  ;  but  as  Alexander  had  only  smiled  at  her  sur 
prise  without  attempting  to  gratify  her  unspoken  curiosity, 
she  forebore  to  ask  him  questions,  and  waited  until  he 
should  explain  the  mystery. 

"  Come  now,"  he  said,  "  I  have  something  else  to  show 
you." 

And  he  led  her  down  to  the  lower  end  of  the  room,  to  a 
green  curtain  that  hung  from  ceiling  to  floor,  and  from  side 
to  side,  and  corresponded,  except  in  color,  with  that  one 
which  divided  the  dining-room  from  the  drawing-room. 

He  drew  aside  this  curtain  and  revealed  a  scene  of  en 
chantment. 

It  was  a  room  of  crystal  glass,  in  gilded  sashes,  and  it 
was  filled  with  the  rarest  and  most  beautiful  exotic  plants, 
most  of  them  in  full  bloom.  Among  these  plants  hung 
large  gilded  cages,  in  which  were  birds  of  the  most  brilliant 
plumage  and  the  sweetest  notes,  whose  songs  filled  all  the 
sunny  and  perfumed  air  with  melody. 


THE      WILD      WOOD      HOME.  175 

Birds  and  flowers  of  all  the  objects  in  nature  had  always 
been  Brasilia's  especial  delight.  Her  love  of  them  might 
have  been  called  a  passion.  And  it  had  never  been  grati 
fied  until  now.  And  here  she  had  them  of  the  most  beauti 
ful  sorts,  gathered  in  one  splendid  crystal  room  like  a  fairy 
palace.  And  as  she  looked  a  smile  of  rapture  lighted  up 
her  lovely  face,  and  then  she  turned  towards  the  giver  of 
all  these  and  tried  to  utter  her  feelings;  but  instead  of 
speaking,  she  burst  into  tears,  threw  herself  in  his  arms, 
and  sobbed  on  his  bosom. 

He  had  overwhelmed  her  with  his  gifts,  as  he  had  done 
once  before. 

Now  smilingly  he  caressed  and  soothed  her,  until  she 
lifted  up  her  head,  dashed  away  her  tears,  and  said,  laugh 
ing : 

"  '  I  am  a  fool  to  weep  at  what  I  am  glad  of/  as  Juliet, 
or  Lady  Macbeth,  or  Regan,  or  Groneril,  or  some  one  of 
Shakspeare's  women  says." 

"  Miranda,  my  love ;  it  was  Miranda.  Never  misquote 
Shakspeare  ;  never  even  in  your  most  confidential  commu 
nications  to  your  most  intimate  friends ;  never  even  in  so 
liloquy  and  in  solitude ! "  said  Alexander,  shaking  his 
head  in  mock  gravity. 

"  Indeed  I  wasn't  even  sure  it  was  in  Shakspeare,"  said 
Drusilla. 

"  And  now  to  the  dining-room.  I  think  we  have  earned 
an  appetite  for  dinner,"  smiled  Alexander,  drawing  her 
arm  within  his  own,  and  leading  her  from  the  library. 

This  evening  was  spent  in  the  drawing  room,  where 
tea  was  served. 

And  so  ended  the  second  day  of  their  bright  honey 
moon. 


176  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CLOUDLESS    JOYS. 

Oh;  pleasant  was  her  welcome  kiss, 

"When  day's  turmoil  was  o'er, 
And  sweet  the  music  of  her  step, 

That  met  him  at  the  door.— DBA KE. 

FOR  the  first  few  days  of  their  honeymoon,  the  bride 
groom  stayed  home  with  his  bride — walking,  riding,  or 
playing  with  her  in  the  mornings,  and  reading,  singing,  or 
conversing  with  her  in  the  evenings. 

On  Sunday,  she  asked  him  to  take  her  to  church,  and 
he  took  her  to  the  nearest  one  of  the  sect  to  which  she 
belonged. 

On  Monday,  he  took  her  into  the  city,  to  show  her  the 
public  buildings  and  other  objects  of  interest. 

On  Tuesday,  Wednesday  and  Thursday,  they  remained 
quietly  at  home.  The  weather  was  very  inclement.  It 
had  been  raining  three  days,  and  the  roads  were  very  bad. 

Alexander  spent  the  time  in  doors,  in  writing  letters, 
examining  accounts,  and  reading  to  Drusilla,  while  she 
worked  with  her  needle.  But  the  gay  young  man  of  the 
world  found  this  life  "  slow." 

On  the  third  dull  afternoon  that  the  poor  little  bride  had 
tried  her  best  to  enliven,  while  he  sat  reading  to  her  as  she 
sewed,  he  suddenly  threw  the  book  from  him,  got  up, 
yawned,  walked  up  and  down  the  room  a  few  turns,  looked 
out  of  the  window  at  the  drizzling  rain  and  gloomy  sky, 
and  then  turning  to  his  companion,  said  : 

"  Drusa,  the  weather  is  infernal,  but — the  German  Opera 
is  in  Washington,  and  our  carriage  is  close.  So  what  do 
you  say  to  braving  the  rain  and  the  wind  to  see  Der 
Freicliutz  by  the  best  troupe  of  artists  that  has  ever  ap 
peared  in  the  city." 


CLOUDLESS      JOYS.  177 

She  looked  up  quickly,  and  saw  that  he  was  anxious  to 
go.  She  replied : 

"I  shall  be  delighted,  Alick." 

"  You  are  not  afraid  of  taking  cold  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit !  I  would  go  through  Noah's  Flood  to  hear 
good  music." 

"  That's  my  girl !  You're  a  brick.  I'm  so  glad  you  are 
not  one  of  the  timid  or  sickly  sort.  That  little  pale  face  of 
yours  is  very  deceptive,  Drusa.  One  would  think  to  look  at 
you  that  you  were  very  delicate,  but  I  never  saw  or  heard 
of  your  being  sick  ,m  my  life." 

"  Except  when  Iraied  myself  into  a  fit  of  illness,  when 
you  went  to  Europe,  Alick.  Oh,  I  hope  I  shall  never  have 
another  such  a  trouble  as  that,  as  long  as  I  live  in  this 
world.  I  remember  it  yet.  Alick,  dear,  I  would  rather  die 
than  lose  you  for  another  two  years,"  she  said  with  much 
feeling. 

"  Little  goose !  I'$i  not  worth  a  tenth,  a  hundredth,  no, 
not  a  thousandth  part  of  the  love  you  bestow  on  me,"  he 
answered  laughing.  . 

"  Oh,  Alick,  I  wouild  not  permit  any  one  but  yourself  to 
say  such  things  of  yd.u.  And  I — I  won't  let  you  say  them 
either,  sir;  so  there,  now  1." 

"  Come,  run  away -'and  get  ready.     I  will  order  the  car- 

,,  '4. 

riage. 

And  Drusilla  tripped  tip  stairs  to  make  her  toilet.  And 
Alexander  sauntered  out  of  the  room  to  give  directions  to 
his  factotum. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  Drusilla  came  down,  dressed  for 
the  evening. 

The  carriage  was  at  the  door. 

"  I    have    no    tickets,   of  course ;     and    consequently    no 
reserved  seats.     But,  on  such  an  inclement  night  as  this,  I 
do  not  doubt  that  we  shall  be  able  to  obtain  good  places," 
said  Alexander,  as  he  handed  her  into  the  carriage. 
11 


178  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

The  roads  were  heavy,  and  so,  a  drive,  that  in  good 
weather  could  have  been  easily  accomplished  in  thirty 
minutes,  occupied  them  for  forty-five. 

It  was  rather  late  when  they  reached  the  National  Theatre, 
where  the  opera  troupe  were  performing. 

The  house  was  full,  and  the  play  had  commenced. 

Upon  inquiry  at  the  ticket-office,  Alexander  ascertained 
that  there  were  no  good  seats  to  be  had,  with  the  exception 
of  those  in  a  stage  box,  that  happened  to  be  disengaged. 

Alexander  at  once  took  that,  and  guided  by  an  usher,  led 
his  companion  thither. 

On  taking  her  seat  in  the  box,  Drusma's  eyes  fell  upon 
what  seemed  to  her  a  scene  of  enchantment. 

The  house  was  filled  with  a  fashionable  and  well-dressed 
audience,  and  the  opera  was  in  full  play.  Drusilla  had 
never  been  in  an  opera  before.  The  Christmas  pantomimes 
of  her  childhood  comprised  the  whole  of  her  experiences  in 
the  theatrical  line.  Her  artistic  eye  and  ear  at  once 
appealed  to,  she  gazed  with  curiosity  and  interest,  and  lis 
tened  with  wonder  and  delight. 

Her  attention  was  fixed  upon  the  stage,  but  her  bride 
groom's  was  fixed  upon  her.  As  once  before,  in  her  child 
hood,  he  had  looked  through  her.  eyes,  and  heard  through 
her  ears,  and  derived  more  pleasure  from  her  pleasure,  than 
from  the  performance  on  the  stage,  so  now  he  experienced  a 
keener  delight  in  watching  and  wondering  at 

"  The  mind,  the  music  breathing  from  her  face," 

than  in  listening  to  the  most  divine  strains  of  the  singer, 
who  was  charming  the  whole  house. 

How  beautiful  she  looked  in  her  enthusiasm  !  She  was 
lovely  always,  even  when  pale  and  still,  but  now  her  lips 
and  cheeks  glowed  with  that  delicate,  transparent  fire,  kin 
dled  of  emotion,  and  her  eyes  beamed  with  light,  her  whole 
countenance  was  radiant  and  inspired. 


CLOUDLESS      JOYS.  179 

He  was  so  much  absorbed  in  contemplating  her,  that 
he  did  not  perceive  she  had  attracted  and  was  receiving 
a  great  deal  of  attention  from  other  quarters  of  the  house. 
Next  to  the  figures  on  the  stage,  the  occupants  of  the 
"  private "  boxes  have  the  most  conspicuous  position ; 
and  if  there  is  a  new  beauty  among  them,  she  is  sure  to 
be  discovered  and  stared  at.  Alexander  had  not  thought 
of  this,  or  perhaps  he  would  not  have  exhibited  his  little 
beauty  in  a  private  box. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  act  of  the  opera,  however, 
he  was  unpleasantly  reminded  of  the  fact.  The  box  door 
opened,  and  one  of  his  gentleman  acquaintances  came  in. 

Alexander  arose  and  shook  hands  with  him,  but  did 
not  ask  him  to  be  seated,  although  there  were  two  spare 
chairs  ;  and  did  not  present  him  to  Drusilla,  although 
the  visitor  looked  enquiringly  at  her,  and  Drusilla  glanced 
timidly  in  return. 

Before  this  gentleman  left  the  box,  another  came,  and 
then  another,  until  the  little  place  was  full.  And  Alex 
ander  chatted  gaily  with  them  all,  but  presented  not  one 
of  them  to  Drusilla. 

When  the  curtain  arose  for  the  third  act,  they  all 
bowed  and  withdrew. 

And  Drusilla's  whole  attention  was  once  more  given  to 
the  stage,  and  Alexander's  to  her. 

Yet,  now  that  his  notice  had  been  attracted  to  the  fact, 
he  could  not  help  seeing  that  several  opera  glasses  were  still 
levelled  at  his  box. 

"  I  will  never  bring  her  here  again,"  he  muttered  to  him 
self,  frowning  with  a  strangely  blended  feeling  of  gratified 
pride  in  the  admiration  his  beautiful  bride  had  unconscious 
ly  excited,  and  of  morose  jealousy  that  other  eyes  should 
gaze  on  her  so  publicly  at  will.  There  was  something  of 
the  sultan  in  Mr.  Lyoirs  seliish  nature,  and  he  felt  as  if  he 
would  have  liked  to  shut  up  his  little  In  iu;ty  from  ;\]1  t;;e 
world  forever. 


180  THE      CHANGED      B  BIDES. 

He  was  heartily  glad  when  the  play  was  over.  And 
while  the  performers  were  still  courtesying  and  bowing,  and 
the  curtain  was  slowly  rolling  down,  he  hurried  Drusilla  up 
from  her  seat,  wrapped  her  cloak  around  her,  and  took  her 
off  lest  some  of  his  unwelcome  visitors  should  meet  them  on 
their  way  out. 

When  they  were  seated  in  their  carriage,  and  the  horses 
were  moving  at  a  smart  trot  down  Pennsylvania  avenue 
towards  Seventh  street,  Alexander  turned  to  his  now  quiet 
companion,  and  said  : 

"  You  were  very  much  pleased,  my  little  love  ?  " 

"  Oh,  more  than  that ;  I  have  been  in  Heaven ! "  she 
aspirated. 

"  You  little  enthusiast !  But  what  makes  you  so  quiet 
now  ?  " 

"'  I  have  scarcely  got  back  to  earth,  I  suppose." 

"  Drusa,  you  saw  those  visitors  that  came  into  our  box  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  they  were  friends  of  yours,  and  looked  as  if  they 
expected  you  to  introduce  them  to  me." 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say  they  did ;  but,  Drusilla,  did  you  wish 
me  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  I  ?  I  had  no  wish  on  the  subject.  But  any  friends  of 
yours,  Alick,  would  be  always  most  welcome  to  my 
acquaintance." 

"  Not  so,  little  one.  A  man  may  have  many  friends  that 
he  would  not  like  to  present  to  his  wife.  And  these — were 
roughs." 

"  '  Roughs  ?  '  " 

"  Rude,  unbroken  colts,  unfit  for  a  gentlewoman's  society. 
But  let  them  pass.  I  only  wished  to  explain  why  I  did 
not  introduce  them  to  you.  Now  as  to  the  entertainment 
of  the  evening.  How  did  you  like  Xitz  ?  "  he  inquired, 
mentioning  the  tenor  of  the  troupe. 

Drusilla  went  oft'  into  raptures  over  the  tenor. 

And  they  talked  of  the  opera  and  of  nothing  else  until 
tlii-  reached  home. 


CLOUDLESS      JOYS.  181 

Lights  from  the  windows  were  gleaming  through  the 
trees  as  they  drove  up  to  the  house. 

"  How  bright  and  cheerful  our  little  home  looks,"  said 
Drusilla,  as  Alexander  lifted  her  from  the  carriage. 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,  love,"  he  whispered. 

Pina  opened  the  door,  and  smilingly  admitted  them. 

She  took  her  mistress's  hood  and  cloak,  while  her  master 
relieved  himself  of  his  cap  and  overcoat. 

And  then  she  opened  the  drawing-room  door  where  a  fine 
fire  was  burning.  And  while  they  stood  and  warmed 
themselves  before  its  blaze  she  drew  aside  the  crimson  cur 
tain  that  shut  off  the  dining  room,  and  revealed  an  elegant 
little  supper  set  out  in  readiness. 

And  the  evening  closed  as  pleasantly  as  it  had  com 
menced. 

Alexander  loved  Drusilla ;  there  is  no  doubt  of  that. 
But  as  the  days  wore  on  he  found  life  alone  with  her  rather 
dull.  They  had  been  married  a  fortnight  before  he  left  her 
alone  for  a  day.  But  on  a  certain  morning  he  had  his 
horse  saddled  to  ride  in  to  Washington  "to  get  the  papers," 
he  said,  and  to  make  arrangements  for  having  them  sent  to 
him  every  day.  As  he  kissed  Drusilla  good-bye  he  added 
that  he  should  be  back  as  soon  as  possible. 

She  begged  that  he  would  not  hurry  himself  for  her  sake. 
She  said  she  would  occupy  her  time  with  dressmaking 
during  his  absence. 

"  But  you  will  be  quite  alone  my  poor  little  love,"  he 
said. 

"I  shall  have  pleasant  thoughts  for  company,"  she 
answered ;  and  she  added  :  "  Dear  Alick,  I  do  not  wish  to 
be  a  hamper  to  your  motions  ;  never  think  of  me  as  any 
obstacle  to  your  freedom.  Please  don't." 

"  As  if  I  ever  thought  of  anything  else  but  you ! " 
replied  the  bridegroom,  who  was  still  a  lover.  And  he 
kissed  her  again  and  rode  away. 


182  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

As  soon  as  Alick  reached  the  city  he  put  his  horse  up  at 
a  livery  stable,  and  gave  himself  a  holiday  by  sauntering 
up  and  down  Pennsylvania  avenue,  and  lounging  into  the 
various  reading  rooms  of  the  hotels. 

In  one  of  them  he  heard  that  an  exciting  polemic  duel 
was  to  come  off  that  day  in  the  Senate  Chamber  between 
two  distinguished  Senators  of  opposite  parties  in  politics. 
Mr.  W.  of  Massachusetts  was  expected  to  make  a  speech, 
which  Mr.  C.  of  South  Carolina  was  expected  to  answer. 

And  Alexander  determined  to  go  with  the  crowd  and 
hear  them. 

He  lost  no  time  in  hurrying  to  the  Capitol,  and  making 
his  way  to  the  gallery  of  the  Senate. 

It  was  the  very  height  of  the  Washington  season,  and  the 
city  was  as  usual  every  winter,  filled  to  overflowing. 

As  many  of  the  elite  as  could  be  presse^  .nto  that  very 
limited  space  was  crowded  into  the  gaaery  of  the  Senate 
Chamber. 

Alexander  with  much  difficulty  made  his  way  into  this 
crowd.  But  Mr.  Lyon  was  epicurean  rather  than  intellec 
tual,  and  would  not  endure  personal  discomfort  for  the  sake 
of  hearing  the  grandest  burst  of  eloquence  that  ever  thun 
derstruck  the  world.  So  after  experiencing  something  of 
heat,  pressure,  and  suffocation  he  turned  his  back  upon  the 
"  Godlike,"  and  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd  in  the 
gallery  to  the  crowd  outside  who  were  trying  to  get  in,  and 
so  slowly  progressed  to  the  library,  were  the  "  population  " 
was  thinner  and  the  air  purer. 

He  walked  up  to  a  table  where  several  ladies  and  gentle 
men  were  gathered  to  look  at  some  new  illustrated  volumes 
that  lay  there  for  inspection. 

One  of  the  ladies  turned  around,  and  he  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  his  Cousin  Anna. 

"  Good  gracious.,  Alick,  who  on  earth  would  have  ex 
pected  to  see  you  here  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  astonishment,  as 
she  offered  her  hand. 


CLOUDLESS     JOYS.  183 

He  turned  red  and  pale  ;  took  and  pressed  the  offered 
hand,  and  then  recovered  himself  and  answered: 

"  Or  you,  Anna.  I  thought  you  were  still  at  Old  Lyon 
Hall."  " 

"And  I  thought  you  were  at  Richmond,  or  rather  I 
had  hoped  you  were  by  this  time." 

"  My  uncle  is  here  with  you,  of  course,'1  said  Alexander, 
wishing  to  avoid  a  topic  which  he  saw  upon  the  lips  of  his 
cousin. 

"  Oh,  yes,  certainly,  my  grandfather  is  here.  Our  com 
ing  was  his  act.  He  fancied — it  was  only  fancy — that  my 
health  and  spirits  were  drooping  in  the  country,  and  that  I 
needed  a  change,  and  so  he  brought  me  to  Washington. 
Of  course  being  in  mourning,  we  do  not  go  to  balls,  only  to 
receptions  where  there  is  no  dancing.  But  how  is  it  that 
you  are  here  ?  Why  are  you  not  in  Richmond?  " 

"  I  hope  my  uncle  is  quite  well  ?  "  said  Alexander,  per 
sistently  ignoring  her  questions. 

"  Yes,  quite.     I  was  asking  you  why ; 

"I  do  not  see  him  ;  he  is  not  with  you  this  morning." 

"  No  ;  he  is  on  the  floor  of  the  Senate  Chamber.  But, 
Alexander,  I  asked  you  why  you  are  here." 

"Oh,  I  too,  needed  a  change,"  he  answered,  smiling. 

"  Ah  !  but  surely,  Alexander,  can  you  know By  the 

way,  what  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself  for  the  last 
month  in  which  we  have  not  heard  from  you  ?  " 

"  Here  is  a  catechism  !  Wandering  about  to  be  sure ; 
trying  to  shake  off  a  very  disagreeable  companion — mean 
ing  myself." 

While  he  spoke  she  was  regarding  him  with  a  very  grave 
face ;  but  there  was  more  of  pity  than  rebuke  in  its  ex 
pression. 

"  Alick,  you  cannot  know.  When  did  you  hear  from 
your  home  ?  " 

"  Not  for  four  or  five  weeks." 


184  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Then  you  don't  know.  Oh,  Alick,  do  you  think  it  was 
right  to  leave  your  home  without  giving  your  address,  in 
case  anything  should  happen  to  require  your  presence.  01), 
Alick!" 

u  Anna,  since  the  death  of  my  dear  father  and  mother,  in 
addition  to  the  grief  for  their  loss  I  have  been  oppressed 
with  the  cares  of  the  estate.  I  wished  to  get  rid  of  trouble 
for  a  little  while.  And  so,  to  prevent  old  Dorset  from 
writing  to  me  about  business,  I  came  away  without  leaving 
my  address." 

"  And  suppose,  Alick,  something  of  importance  should 
have  required  your  attention  in  the  meantime  ?  Some 
matter  of  life  or  death  ?  " 

"  Well,  thank  Heaven,  no  such  matter  has  turned  up.  I 
see  you  before  me  in  health  and  beauty.  And  I  hear  you 
say  that  my  uncle  is  quite  well." 

"And  yet  something  has  happened.  Come  with  me, 
Alick,  to  the  window  yonder/'  said  Anna,  in  a  low  voice,  as 
she  walked  off  to  a  distant  part  of  the  room. 

"  Have  you  really  heard  nothing  from  Dorset,  Alick  ?  " 
she  inquired,  when  they  stood  together  at  some  distance 
from  every  one  else  in  the  library. 

"  jSTo  ;  I  hope  nothing  "has  happened  to  the  poor  old 
fellow  ?  "  said  Alexander,  uneasily. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  to  him,  or  to  any  of  the  servants.  Oh, 
Alick,  I  am  so  sorry  to  be  the  first  to  tell  you." 

"  Of  what  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  Anna,  since  you  and 
your  grandfather,  and  even  old  Dorset  and  the  servants  are 
well." 

"  Was  there  no  one  else  in  whom  you  took  an  interest  ?  " 
she  gravely  inquired. 

"  Richard  Hammond  ?  Poor  Dick  !  Surely  no  misfor 
tune— 

"  "No,  no  misfortune  has  befallen  Dick  ;  and  neither  do  I 
give  you  credit  for  caring  a  straw  whether  there  has  or  has 


CLOUDLESS      JOYS.  185 

not.  Nothing  has  happened  to  Dick  but  the  inheritance  of 
a  large  fortune  from  a  bachelor  uncle  in  Brazil,  which  has 
caused  my  grandfather  to  look  on  him  with  more  tolerant 
eyes." 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  Dick's  good  fortune." 

"  I  do  not  give  you  credit  for  caring  a  fig  for  his  fortune, 
good  or  bad.  But  oh,  Alick,  I  am  grieved  for  you.  Was 
there  no  one  else,  no  one  else  you  cared  for,  left  at  home  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  think  of  any  other  creature  in  whom 
I  could  be  expected  to  take  so  deep  an  interest." 

"  Not— poor  little  Drusilla?  " 

Alexander  gave  a  great  guilty  start  and  stood  gazing  at 
his  cousin.  Drusilla  had  not  been  associated  in  his  mind 
\vith  any  one  left  at  home  ;  so  he  had  had  no  suspicion  that 
Anna  spoke  of  her;  and  now  he  wondered  whether  Anna 
had  any  inkling  of  the  truth.  He  doubted  only  an  instant, 
and  then  he  felt  sure  by  her  words,  looks  and  manners  that 
she  had  not.  Yet  he  wished  to  know  everything  she  had  to 
say  of  Drusilla's  flight. 

"What  of  her?"  he  inquired. 

"  Oh,  Alick,  poor  little  thing!  I  grieve  so  much  to  tell 
you.  But  after  you  left  home,  it  seems  she  became  moody, 
silent,  absent,  and  altogether  queer.  She  took  to  wander 
ing  off  every  day  by  herself.  Dorset  and  Molly  thought 
that  she  was  going  deranged  as  her  poor  mother  had  gone. 
So  they  watched  her  closely.  But  one  day,  about  a  fort 
night  after  you  left  home,  she  eluded  their  vigilance  and 
disappeared  from  the  house.  And  though  the  most  diligent 
search  was  made  for  her,  she  could  not  be  found." 

Anna  paused,  and  Alexander  tried  to  look  as  much 
shocked  as  she  evidently  expected  him  to  be  ;  but  he  could 
not  yet  trust  himself  to  make  any  comment. 

"  Old  Dorset,  nearly  beside  himself  with  distress,  wrote 
to  my  grandfather,  telling  him  of  what  had  occurred,  and 
asking  for  your  address  that  he  might  communicate  the 


186  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

matter  to  you.  Of  course,  not  knowing  it,  my  grandfather 
could  not  give  it.  But  I  did  hope  the  old  man  had  discov 
ered  your  whereabouts  and  written  to  you." 

"  ~No,  he  has  not.  Dear  me  !  Poor  girl,  poor  girl !  how 
shocking  !  And  no  trace  has  been  discovered  of  her  yet  ?  " 
said  Alexander,  acting  grief  and  anxiety  as  well  as  any 
ordinary  stage-player  could. 

"  None  that  I  knew  of." 

"  Bless  my  life,  how  dreadful !  I  must  put  advertisements 
in  all  the  papers  and  employ  the  detectives.  What  motive 
does  old  Dorset  assign  to  her  act  of  leaving  her  home  ?  " 

"Partial  derangement,  I  tell  you,  inherited  from  her 
mother." 

"Poor  child!  poor  child!  I  will  have  inquiries  set  on 
foot  immediately.  But — here  comes  General  Lyon,"  said 
Alexander,  glad  to  have  a  diversion  from  the  very  embar 
rassing  subject  of  Drusilla. 

In  fact,  at  that  moment  the  old  soldier  entered  the 
library,  looking  to  the  right  and  left  in  search  of  his  grand 
daughter. 

Attended  by  Alexander,  she  went  to  meet  him. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  ready  to  go  back  to  our  hotel  ? — Ah, 
Alexander,  how  do  you  do,  my  boy  ?  Glad  to  see  you. 
How  long  have  you  been  here?  "  he  asked,  cordially  shak 
ing  hands  with  his  nephew. 

"  I  reached  the  city  early  this  morning,"  said  Alexander, 
speaking  the  literal  truth,  but  giving  a  false  impression,  as 
he  meant  to  do. 

"  Ah  !  by  the  first  train,  eh  ?  "  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
jumping  to  the  obvious  conclusion.  "But  where  do  you 
hang  out,  eh,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  taken  rooms  }ret,"  replied  Alexander,  who 
found  that  he  needed  all  his  presence  of  mind  to  answer 
these  unexpected  questions  without  betraying  himself  on 
the  ore  hand  and  perjuring  himself  on  the  other. 


CLOUDLESS      JOYS.  187 

"  All !  left  all  your  luggage  at  the  station,  eh  ?  Well,  I 
would  advise  you  to  take  rooms  at  our  hotel.  We  are 
pretty  comfortable  there  ?  " 

"  How  long  do  you  propose  to  stay  here,  sir  ?  "  inquired 
the  young  man. 

"  Oh,  the  rest  of  the  season,  I  suppose." 

Here  was  a  dilemma.  Of  course,  Alexander  might  have 
ended  all  his  embarrassments  by  candidly  confessing  his 
marriage  with  Drusilla.  And  why  did  he  not  do  so  ? 
Simply  because  loving  and  admiring  his  young  bride,  as  he 
certainly  did,  he  was  nevertheless  ashamed  of  having  wedded 
his  housekeeper's  daughter ;  and  he  lacked  moral  courage 
to  face  the  astonishment  of  his  cousin  and  the  indignation 
of  his  uncle,  and  to  defend  his  own  act  and  stand  by  his 
own  wife. 

Ah  !  but  there  is  a  sort  of  pride  that  is  below  contempt. 

While  Alexander  was  wondering  what  he  should  do  to 
get  out  of  his  perplexities,  his  uncle  changed  the  subject 
back  to  the  other  dangerous  theme  by  saying : 

"  Ah,  by  the  way,  that  was  a  sad  thing — the  fate  of  poor 
little  Drusilla." 

"  Very  sad,  indeed,  sir,"  replied  Alexander,  lugubriously. 

"It  must  have  shocked  you  terribly,"  said  the  old 
soldier. 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Alexander. 

"  Well,  well,  it  can't  be  helped,  I  suppose." 

"  I  shall  do  all  I  can  in  the  premises,  sir." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt,  no  doubt.  Come,  my  dear  Anna,  let  us 
get  on.  Alick,  come  home  with  us  to  dinner." 

Alexander  would  have  made  excuses.  He  was  not  dressed 
for  dinner,  he  said.  He  had  no  means  of  making  his  toilejfc/ 

But  his  uncle  cut  him  short.  .X 

"  Nonsense,  man,  nonsense.  Who  expects  you  to  be  in 
full  dress  to-day  ?  You  are  a  traveller,  just  arrived  in  the 
city.  You  have  left  your  luggage  at  the  station,  and  you 


188  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

have  not  even  engaged  rooms  yet.  Besides — at  a  hotel- 
table,  who  cares  how  you  are  dressed?  Come  along. 
There  !  give  Anna  3Tour  arm,  and  take  her  to  the  carriage.7' 

What  could  Alick  do  ? 

He  offered  his  arm  to  his  cousin  and  led  her  down  the 
many  broad  steps  leading  to  the  east  front  of  the  capitol, 
where  the  carriage  waited.  He  handed  her  carefully  in  to 
her  cushioned  seat,  and  bowed  and  attempted  some  excuse 
for  leaving  her. 

But  Anna,  seized  with  some  inexplicable  whim,  perhaps 
inspired  by  the  Spirit  of  Evil  for  his  torment,  would  not 
let  him  off;  but  insisted  upon  his  entering  and  taking  a 
seat  beside  her. 

With  a  suppressed  groan,  Alexander  obeyed. 

The  old  soldier  followed  them  into  the  carriage. 

When  he  \vas  comfortably  seated  and  the  horses  had 
started,  he  rubbed  his  hands  and  said : 

"  This  is  fortunate.  I  needed  some  one  whom  I  could 
trust,  to  take  Anna  out  in  the  evening.  Who  so  proper  an 
escort  as  her  betrothed  husband  ?  Now  this  evening  there 
is  to  be  a  grand  reception  at  the  Executive  Mansion.  I  do 
not  feel  well  enough  to  go  out  at  night,  so  I  must  impress 
you  into  the  service,  my  boy." 

"I  should  be  most  happy,  sir,"  said  the  young  man, 
actually  trembling  under  his  accumulating  embarrassment. 
"  I  should  indeed  be  delighted,  but " 

"  But  what  ? — Oh,  nonsense,  you  cannot  make  any  excuse 
about  your  toilet  in  this  case  ;  there  is  plenty  of  time  to  get 
your  luggage  from  the  station,  and  get  yourself  up  for  the 
evening  in  the  most  unexceptionable  style." 

"  Yes,  sir,  but " 

"  But  what,  again  ?  You  cannot  possibly  have  any  other 
engagement.  You  have  been  in  the  city  too  short  a  time. 
Alexander,  what  has  come  to  you  ?  You  are  not  like  your 
self  at  all.  I  really  think  your  betrothed  has  a  reason  to 
feel  piqued,"  said  the  old  man,  gravely. 


CLOUDLESS      JOYS.  189 

"  I  bog  your  pardon  and  hers,  sir — I  am — if  I  must 
speak  the  truth,  a  little  upset  upon  the  subject  of  that  poor 
girl,"  said  Alexander,  in  explanation,  again  speaking  the 
literal  truth,  while  intentionally  giving  a  wrong  impres 
sion. 

"  Oh  exactly,  to  be  sure,  my  dear  boy,  and  it  does  you 
credit.  I  am  certain  I  ought  to  beg  your  pardon,  now,  for 
doing  injustice  to  your  good  feelings.  But  Alick,  my  lad, 
your  compassion  for  that  poor  child  need  not  prevent  you 
from  ordinary  social  pleasures.  You  really  must  escort 
your  cousin  to  the  President's  reception  to-night." 

"  My  dear  grandfather,"  put  in  Anna,  "  I  will  not,  if  you 
please,  have  any  gentleman  pressed  into  my  service  against 
his  will,  even  though  that  gentleman  should  be  my 
affianced  husband.  Dick  is  in  Washington.  He  called  on 
me  this  morning,  and  begged  leave  to  attend  me  to  the 
White  House  this  evening.  I  told  him  I  would  hold  his 
proposal  in  reserve,  and  let  him  know  in  time." 

Now  what  was  there  in  the  name  of  his  old  rival,  poor 
Dick,  that  should  have  raised  Alexander's  jealous}^  ?  Mr. 
Lyon  was  a  married  man,  and  had  no  right  to  feel  annoyed 
at  the  idea  of  Richard  Hammond  becoming  the  escort  of 
his  cousin.  Nevertheless  he  did  feel  annoyed,  partly,  per 
haps,  because  he  had  once  considered  Anna  his  own  prop 
erty,  and  however  lightly  he  had  valued  the  possession,  he 
could  not,  even  now,  see  her  pass  over  to  another  without  a 
secret  feeling  of  rage  and  jealousy  ;  and  so  he  hesitated  to 
answer  : 

"No,  my  dear  cousin  ;  if  you  please,  I  claim  the  right 
of  attending  you  in  person.  I  can  not  resign  that  right  to 
Mr.  Hammond." 

"  And  /  claim  the  right  of  choosing  my  own  escort," 
said  Anna,  proudly. 

Alexander  bowed. 

"  Girl  and   boy,   I  will  have    no   lovers'   quarrels  here, 


190  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Anna,  you  should  feel  that  there  is  an  impropriety  in  an 
engaged  young  lady  accepting  the  attentions  of  another 
gentleman,  when  her  hetrothed  is  anxious  to  show  her  those 
attentions  himself.  Alexander,  you  are  to  take  Anna  to 
the  reception  this  evening.  Young  people,  both  see  that 
you  ohey  me.  Some  respect  should  be  paid  to  my  gray 
head  and  niy  eighty  years,"  said  the  old  soldier,  with  dig 
nity. 

Both  the  young  people  bowed  and  acquiesced.  And  so 
it  was  settled  that  Alexander  should  attend  Anna  to  the 
reception  of  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A    QUEEN    OF    FASHION. 

Here  high-born  men  were  proud  to  wait* 
And  beauty  watched  to  imitate 

Her  gentle  voice,  her  lovely  mien, 
And  gather  from  her  air  and  gait 

The  graces  of  its  queen. — BYROX. 

ALEXANDER  went  with  his  uncle  and  cousin  to  their 
hotel. 

"  And  now,  my  boy,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  after  he 
had  dismissed  the  carriage  and  taken  his  grand-daughter 
into  the  private  entrance,  "  let  us  lose  no  time  in  going  to 
the  office  and  securing  your  rooms.  Guests  are  arriving  by 
every  train,  and  the  house  is  in  a  fair  way  of  being 
crowded  if  it  is  not  so  already.  Indeed,  I  fear  you  may 
not,  even  now,  be  able  to  obtain  rooms  here." 

"  Heaven  grant  I  may  not  !  "  was  the  fervent,  though 
silent,  aspiration  of  Mr.  Lyon,  who  was  almost  at  his  wits' 
ends  with  perplexity. 

In  the  strong  hope  that  there  was  no  room  to  be  had,  he 


A      QUEEN      OF      FASHION.  191 

let  his  uncle  drag  him  along  to  the  counter  of  the  office, 
which  was  crowded  with  applicants  for  accommodations. 
It  was  some  minutes  before  General  Lyon  could  get  audi 
ence  with  the  sorely  embarrassed  clerk  of  the  house.  When 
lie  did,  it  was  to  receive  the  answer  that  the  crowded  state 
of  the  office  led  him  to  anticipate. 

There  was  not  a  room  nor  a  half  a  room,  nor  a  bed  nor  a 
half  a  bed,  at  the  disposal  of  the  house. 

"  I  thought  so.  Well,  Alick,  I  am  sorry  ;  but  you  must 
try  to  get  rooms  as  near  us  as  possible.  I  don't  think  the 
Blank  House  is  full  yet.  It  is  too  far  up  town  for 
strangers.  But  hark  ye  !  it  will  be  full  in  an  hour  from 
this  time.  '  Make  hay  wrhile  the  sun  shines.'  Hun,  now; 
jump  into  a  cab  and  drive  for  life  to  the  Blank,  and  engage 
your  rooms  before  this  crowd  gets  there  and  fills  the 
house." 

Again,  what  could  Alexander  do  ?  He  saw  at  a  glance 
that  he  must  ostensively  live  at  Washington — that  he  must 
have  rooms  at  some  hotel,  though  he  might  never,  or  very 
seldom,  occupy  them.  And  he  wras  only  too  glad  that  he 
was  not  obliged  to  have  rooms  in  the  same  house  with  his 
uncle,  and  so  be  always  under  the  old  gentleman's  eye. 

He  thanked  General  Lyon  for  his  advice,  and  said  that 
he  should  avail  himself  of  it. 

And  he  went  out  and  jumped  into  the  first  cab  that 
offered,  and  drove  to  the  Blank  House,  where  he  happened 
to  be  in  time  to  engage  the  only  bedroom  at  the  disposal  of 
the  proprietor. 

He  took  the  key  of  his  room,  which  he  meant  only  to 
occupy  on  his  occasional  visits  to  the  city,  and  then  he 
drove  to  the  "  establishment  "  of  a  fashionable  tailor  and 
gentleman's  outfitter,  and  he  suited  himself  with  a  full  eve 
ning  dress,  including  linen,  gloves,  perfumery,  et  cetera. 
These  he  ordered  to  be  sent  to  his  room  at  the  Blank 
House. 


192  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

"  I  am  booked  for  his  Excellency's  reception  this  evening, 
and  so  it  will  be  considerably  after  midnight  before  I  can 
hope  to  get  back  to  Cedarwood.  Poor  little  Drusa  !  I 
hope  she  won't  be  anxious,  and  sit  up  and  lose  her  rest/'  he 
said,  as  he  hurried  back  to  his  hotel  to  make  his  toilet  for 
the  evening. 

While  waiting  for  his  parcel  from  the  tailor's  he  lounged 
into  the  reading  room,  and  took  up  one  of  the  evening 
papers ;  but  its  columns  could  scarcely  engage  his  attention, 
which  was  wholly  engrossed  by  his  embarrassments. 

"  It  is  now  near  sunset,"  so  ran  his  thoughts,  "  and  poor 
little  soul !  she  has  been  watching  for  me  for  hours,  is 
watching  for  me  at  this  moment,  and  will  watch  for  me  for 
hours  longer,  until  long  after  midnight,  tormented  by 
nobody  knows  how  many  fears  and  fancies  concerning  me. 
Plague  take  the  old  man  !  what  brought  him  bothering  to 
Washington  just  at  this  time  ?  "  very  irreverently  muttered 
Mr.  Lyon  to  himself,  as  his  eyes  ran  over  the  news  items  of 
the  paper  without  taking  cognizance  of  their  meaning. 

His  ostensible  reading  and  his  real  reverie  was  rudely  in 
terrupted  by  the  clap  of  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  the 
ring  of  a  laugh  in  his  ear. 

He  turned  sharply  around  and  recognized  Captain  Reding 
and  Lieutenant  Harpe,  two  young  officers  of  the  army,  who 
had  been  among  the  visitors  to  his  box  on  the  ^evening 
when  he  had  taken  Drusilla  to  the  German  Opera. 

He  bowed  coldly  in  rebuke  to  their  laughter,  but  they 
took  no  offence. 

"  Hey,  old  boy  !  so  here  you  are  at  last !  "  said  Reding. 

"  We  have  been  looking  for  you  for  days — ever  since  we 
saw  you  at  the  German  Opera  with  that  pretty  little  girl," 
said  Harpe. 

"Where  have  you  been  hiding  yourself  all  this  time?" 
inquired  Reding. 

"  And  above  all,  where  have  you  hidden  that  little 
beauty,  you  churlish  fellow  ?  "  added  Harpe. 


A     QUEEN      OF     FA  SHI  OX.  193 

"  You  never  presented  us  to  her,"  said  Reding. 

"  Ah  !  we  owe  you  one  for  that,"  added  Harpe. 

"Gentlemen,"  answered  Mr.  Lyon,  slowly  and  coldly 
collecting  his  thoughts,  "if  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
speak,  one  at  a  time,  and  forbear  a  second  question  until  a 
first  is  answered,  perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  satisfy  your 
curiosity.  On  the  evening  to  which  you  allude  I  happened 
to  be  passing  through  Washington,  having  in  my  charge 
the  daughter  of  a  clergyman.  She  was  the  very  young 
lady  whom  you  saw  with  me  at  the  opera.  I  made  no  stay 
in  the  city  beyond  that  evening  ;  but  took  my  young  charge 
immediately  to  her  home." 

And  in  this  statement  also  Mr.  Lyon  told  something 
near  the  literal  truth,  while  intentionally  giving  a  false 
impression. 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  Reding,  "but  why  did  you  not  introduce 
us  to  the  little  beauty  ?  " 

"  If  you  must  have  it,  I  did  not  think  two  gay  young 
blades  like  yourselves  very  desirable  acquaintances  for  a 
clergyman's  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Lyon. 

"  And  you  were  ! — oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  "  laughed  Reding. 

"  Deuce  take  it,  what  do  you  mean  by  that,  Alick  ?  "  in 
quired  Mr.  Harpe. 

"Nothing  against  your  honor,  gentlemen.  If  my  charge 
for  the  evening  had  been  any  other  young  lady  in  the 
world,  I  would  have  presented  you  to  her." 

"  Much  obliged,"  said  Reding ;  "  but  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  Lyon,  whether  you  like  it  or  not,  the  young  person 
in  question  did  not  impress  us  as  being  a  young  lady." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Lyon,  in 
a  low,  stern  voice,  as  he  glared  at  the  speaker. 

"Oh,  nothing  against  her  honor — nothing  in  the  world. 
I  mean  simply  that  the  little  creature  seemed  to  us  to  be, 
not  exactly  of  '  low  birth/  but  of  '  humble  parentage,'  as  the 
12 


194  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

phrase  goes.  She  had  not  the  manners  of  good  society," 
answered  Reding. 

"  Heaven  forbid  she  ever  should  have/'  said  Alexander, 
firmly.  And  yet  the  criticism  galled  him ;  all  the  more, 
perhaps,  because  he  felt  it  to  bft  the  truth.  His  lovely 
young  wife  had  not,  as  these  critics  said,  the  manners  of 
"  good  society."  Yet  it  was  hard  to  say  what  she  lacked. 
Whatever  it  was,  it  was  something  in  which  Miss  Anna 
Lyon,  a  very  queen  in  society,  excelled.  What  was  it, 
then  ?  Drusilla  was  pretty,  graceful,  well-educated,  and 
well-dressed.  She  excelled  in  many  accomplishments,  and 
was  conversant  with  the  history  of  the  past  and  the  litera 
ture  of  the  present,  and  she  conversed  intelligently  upon 
all  these.  She  was  sweet,  gentle  and  courteous  in  her  de 
portment  to  all  persons.  What  then  did  she  lack  ?  I  will 
tell  you — self-esteem  and  self-possession — both  of  which 
qualities  are  in  high  favor  in  "good  society."  Drusilla's 
manner  was  that  of  one  who  had  always  occupied  a  subor 
dinate  position  by  living  among  her  superiors.  She  had  too 
little  of  assurance  and  too  much  of  deference. 

And  this  delicate  and  retiring  manner,  which  had  been 
one  of  her  sweetest  charms  in  the  eyes  of  her  lover,  now 
suddenly  became  objectionable  in  the  estimation  of  her 
husband. 

"  No,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  she  has  not  the  air  of  a 
lady  ;  she  has  the  air  of  a  maid-servant.  Poor  little  thing  ! 
I  fear  I  shall  never  be  able  to  introduce  her." 

"  No  offence,  I  hope,  Alick ! "  said  young  Harpe,  good 
humoredly,  noticing  Mr  Lyon's  gloomy  abstraction. 

"  None  in  the  world,"  answered  Alexander. 

"  Because,  if  there  should  be,  I  am  ready  to  fight  or 
apologize,  or  to  give  you  any  sort  of  satisfaction  you  may 
please  to  demand,"  laughed  the  young  lieutenant. 

"I  ask  as  a  favor  that  you  will  drop  the  subject  of  this 
young  lady  ;  for  she  is  a  lady  by  position,  if  not — according 


A     QUEEN      OF     FASHION.  195 

to  your  judgment — in  manners.  And  now,  gentlemen,  as  I 
have  an  engagement,  1  must  wish  you  good  evening,"  .said 
Mr.  Lyon,  bowing  and  withdrawing  from  their  proximity. 

"  No,"  he  said,  as  lie  went  slowly  up  to  his  room,  "  I 
must  not  bring  Drusilla  into  public  again.  Her  beaut}r  ex 
cites  attention  and  her  simplicity  provokes  criticism,  and 
both  raise  questions  difficult  to  meet.  Poor  little  Drusa, 
she  must  always  be  a  hidden  treasure,  a  secret  'well-spring 
of  joy  '  to  me.  Well,  she  will  not  object  to  that,  and  she 
will  be  all  the  lovelier  and  the  sweeter  for  this  seclusion," 
he  added,  in  some  self-satisfaction,  as  he  entered  his  room 
and  began  to  dress  for  the  evening. 

As  soon  as  he  was  ready  he  went  down  to  the  dining- 
room,  took  a  single  cup  of  strong  tea,  and  then  passed  out 
to  the  side-walk  and  called  the  best-looking  cab  that  he 
saw  upon  the  stand. 

A  short  drive  took  him  to  the  hotel  where  his  uncle  and 
cousin  were  stopping.  He  was  shown  up  into  their  private 
parlor,  where  they  were  awaiting  him. 

"You  are  late,  Alick,"  said  Anna,  advancing  from  the 
fire  to  meet  him  half  way  across  the  room. 

"  I  had  to  wait  for  my  parcels,"  replied  Alexander,  bow 
ing  and  smiling  apologetically. 

"  Oh,  your  luggage  from  the  railway  station  ?  Well,  the 
porters  are  slow,  that  is  certain  ;  but  then  they  have  so 
much  to  do,"  said  old  General  Lyon,  drawing  a  natural 
inference. 

Alexander  bowed  in  an  absent  sort  of  a  manner,  but  did 
not  reply.  He  was  gazing  at  his  cousin.  How  grandly 
beautiful  she  looked,  how  graceful,  how  stately !  Ah  !  she 
had  the  air,  not  only  of  "  good  society,"  but  of  the  best 
society  !  And  that  upstart  puppy,  that  good  for  nothing 
Dick  Hammond,  to  aspire  to  her.  Ugh  ! 

Such  was  the  tenor  of  Mr.  Alexander's  thoughts  as  he 
stood  for  a  moment  contemplating  his  beautiful  and 


196  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

imperious-looking  cousin.  In  fact,  Anna  was  at  an  age 
when  every  season  added  to  her  beautj'.  Always  well- 
looking,  she  had  never  in  her  lift  looked  so  well  as  to-night. 
She  wore  a  deep  mourning  full  dress  of  black  crape,  over 
a  black  silk.  It  was  made  with  a  low  corsage  and  short 
sleeves  ;  both  sleeves  and  corsage  were  edged  with  a  narrow 
trimming  of  fine  white  thule ;  and  the  fairness  of  her  per 
fect  neck  and  arms  were  set  off  by  a  necklace  and  bracelets 
of  jet.  Her  golden  auburn  hair  was  in  plain  rolls  at  the 
back  of  her  head,  and  a  band  of  jet  above  her  forehead  was 
its  only  ornament.  This  simple  mourning  dress  set  off  her 
blonde  beauty  more  completely  than  the  most  elaborate 
toilet  could  have  done. 

"  I  am  ready,  Alick.  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?  "  she 
inquired,  breaking  in  upon  the  spell  that  bound  him. 

"Nothing,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight  start.  "I  am  at 
your  service  this  instant." 

And  he  stepped  towards  her,  and  fastened  the  glove  on 
the  hand  that  she  held  out  to  him.  And  then  he  wrapped 
her  opera  cloak  carefully  around  her  shoulders,  tied  the  little 
hood  under  her  chin,  drew  her  arm  within  his  own,  and  led 
her  from  the  room  down  to  the  carriage,  wondering  all  the 
way  how  it  was  that  his  cousin  Anna,  whom  he  had  only 
known  as  a  rather  pretty  girl  so  long,  should  so  suddenly 
have  become  so  beautiful  in  his  eyes. 

Ah  !  Mr.  Lyon,  she  had  grown  beautiful  to  you  only  in 
becoming  unattainable  by  you.  A  common  case. 

Old  General  Lyon  followed  them  closely,  and  saw  Alick 
put  Anna  into  her  seat,  and  tuck  her  wrappings  carefully 
around  her,  and  then  get  in  and  place  himself  beside  her. 

"  Take  care  of  her,  Alick  ;  the  night  is  growing  colder/' 
said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  I  shall  take  the  best  care  of  her,  sir,"  replied  Alexan 
der. 

"Anna,  mind,  you  are  not  to  stay  late,"  said  Anna's 
grandfather. 


MORAL     MADNESS.  197 

"  '  Late  ?  ' — Who  stays  late  at  a  President's  reception  ? 
Everybody — that  is,  almost  everybody,  leaves  before  twelve. 
I  shall  be  back  by  half-past  eleven,  sir.  Jt  is  only  to  make 
one's  bow  or  courtesy  to  his  Excellency  in  the  Reception 
Room,  and  walk  once  or  twice  through  the  East  Room,  and 
come  away,"  laughed  Anna. 

"  Very  well,  I  shall  sit  up  for  you,"  said  General  Lyon, 
by  way  of  sealing  the  bargain,  as  he  retreated  from  the 
carriage  door. 

The  coachman  put  up  the  steps,  clapped  to  the  door, 
mounted  his  box,  and  drove  off. 


CHAPTER  XYIT 

MORAL    MADNESS. 

And  she  was  all  forgotten, 

Amid  the  dazzling  hall, 
Amid  the  thundering  music 

And  maddening  carnival. — ANOK. 

"I  WAS  so  upset  by  what  you  told  me,  Anna,  that  I 
really  forgot  to  ask  you  how  long  you  have  been  in  the  city," 
said  Alexander,  as  soon  as  the  horses  were  in  motion. 

"  We  have  been  here  just  four  days,"  answered  Miss 
Lyon. 

"  You  have  not  been  out  much  ?  " 

"  No ;  my  grandfather  has  a  crotchet  that  one  must  make 
one's  first  appearance  in  public  at  the  President's  reception. 
This  is  the  first  one  that  has  been  held  since  our  arrival, 
and  consequently  the  first  evening  that  I  have  been  out." 

"  I  am  very  fortunate  in  being  here  to  go  with  you,"  said 
Alexander,  this  time  speaking,  to  his  shame,  quite  truly ; 
for  he  was  glad  to  escort  his  beautiful  cousin,  if  only  to 
prevent  Richard  Hammond  from,  doing  so. 


198  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Thanks,"  she  answered,  very  coldly,  as  if  not  believing 
his  statement,  or  not  valuing  it. 

The  very  short  distance  between  the  hotel  they  had  left 
and  the  palace  to  which  they  were  going  was  soon  accom 
plished,  and  the  carriage  was  drawn  up  in  the  rear  of  some 
fifty  others  that  occupied  the  drive  leading  to  the  doors  of 
the  Executive  mansion. 

"There  seems  to  be  a  great  crowd  here  to-night,"  said 
Alexander,  while  they  waited  their  turn  to  drive  up  to  the 
door. 

"  There  is  always  a  crowd  here  in  the  month  of  February, 
I  believe.  It  is  in  this  month  that  the  city  is  full  of 
strangers — literally  full,  Alick,"  replied  Anna. 

It  was  twenty  minutes  before  their  carriage  slowly 
worked  its  way  up  before  the  main  entrance  of  the  mansion. 
Then  Alexander  handed  his  companion  down  from  her  seat, 
and  took  her  up  the  broad  steps  leading  into  the  front  hall 
of  the  palace. 

A  President's  reception  has  been  described  so  often  that 
there  is  no  need  of  a  description  here. 

The  reception  of  this  evening  in  its  general  features 
differed  from  none  of  its  predecessors  or  its  successors. 
There  was  the  same  crowd  of  carriages  on  the  drive,  the 
same  stream  of  foot  passengers  on  the  walk,  and  the  same 
crush  of  guests  in  the  hall,  in  the  cloak  rooms,  in  the  corri 
dors,  in  the  ante-rooms,  in  the  audience-chamber,  in  the 
reception  room,  and  in  the  east  drawing-room. 

Having  each  deposited  their  outer  wrappings  respectively 
in  the  gentlemen's  and  the  ladies'  cloak-rooms,  Alexander 
and  Anna  met  at  the  door  of  the  latter.  He  drew  her  arm 
within  his  own,  and  they  soon  found  themselves  in  a  crush 
of  crinoline  and  broadcloth,  and  an  atmosphere  of  patchoula 
frangipani,  being  forced  forward  through  the  corridor  and 
the  ante-room  into  the  reception  room.  In  due  time  they 
were  pressed  up  to  the  presence  of  the  President  and  his 


MORAL      MADNESS.  199 

suite  ;  but  they  had  scarcely  made  their  respective  bow  and 
courtesy,  and  touched  his  Excellency's  hand,  before  they 
were  carried  onward  through  other  rooms  into  the  east 
drawing-room,  where  they  found  a  little  more  space  and 
freedom  of  motion. 

A  military  band  was  playing  a  national  march,  to  the 
measure  of  which  nearly  half  the  company  were  promenad 
ing  in  a  procession  around  and  around  the  saloon  in  a  man 
ner  which,  to  a  '  new  comer,  must  have  looked  simply 
idiotic. 

Others  of  the  assembly  were  seated  on  the  various  sofas 
and  divans  that  lined  the  walls  of  the  room. 

"  Will  you  take  a  seat  or  a  promenade  ?  "  inquired  Alex 
ander  of  his  companion. 

"  Oh,  a  promenade,  by  all  means,"  replied  Anna.  "  I 
like  the  perfect  vacuity  of  mind  that  falls  upon  one  in  that 
orbit." 

Alexander  drew  her  arm  closer  within  his  own,  and  they 
fell  into  the  procession.  Immediately  before  them  walked 
a  foreign  minister,  in  his  official  costume,  conducting  a  lady 
of  high  rank  and  fashion.  Immediately  behind  them  came 
a  general  officer  with  a  reigning  belle  upon  his  arm. 

But  the  reign  of  this  belle  was  over  from  this  evening. 
Her  successor  had  arrived. 

Alexander  and  Anna  had  not  made  the  circuit  of  the 
room  twice,  before  he  saw  that  his  companion  was,  "  the 
observed  of  all  observers "  in  the  place.  He  saw  eye 
glasses  levelled  at  her ;  he  heard  whispered  questions  con 
cerning  her: 

"Who  is  she,  that  beautiful  girl  in  black  crape  and 
jet?" 

And  he  heard  the  whispered  answers  : 

"  A  new  debutante  in  the  beau  monde,  I  fancy."     Or — 

"  I  don't  know,  but  that  is  young  Lyon,  of  Richmond, 
who  is  escorting  her." 


200  THE      CHANGED      BUIDES. 

"  Splendid  woman  !  " 

"  Magnificent  creature  !  "     Etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

As  he  saw  and  heard  all  this,  Alexander  was  strongly 
affected  with  contradictory  emotions.  If  the  beautiful  girl 
by  his  side  had  been  undisputably  his  own,  he  might  have 
witnessed  the  sensation  she  created,  with  unmixed  pride 
and  pleasure.  But  he  had  by  his  own  rash  act,  lost  his 
own  once  exclusive  right  over  her,  and  even  put  himself 
beyond  the  circle  of  ordinary  aspirants  for  her  favor.  And 
now  the  universal  admiration  her  beauty  excited,  aroused 
his  dog-in-the-manger  jealousy,  rather  than  nattered  his 
pride. 

And,  upon  the  whole,  not  liking  the  situation,  he  stooped 
and  whispered  to  his  cousin  : 

"  Shall  I  lead  you  to  a  seat  now,  Anna  ?  n 

"  If  you  please,"  she  answered. 

And  he  took  her  to  a  distant  sofa,  gave  her  the  corner  of 
it,  and  placed  himself  by  her  side. 

But  he  gained  nothing  by  the  motion.  On  the  contrary, 
he  lost. 

No  sooner  were  they  seated,  than  up  came  Richard 
Hammond,  confident  and  smiling. 

Anna  received  him  with  the  utmost  graciousness. 

And  he  stood  before  her,  talking  and  laughing  with  her 
very  gaily. 

Other  gentlemen  friends,  whom  Anna  had  met  on  former 
occasions,  came  up  and  paid  their  respects,  and  lingered 
near  her.  Her  lady  friends,  a  few  of  whom  were  present, 
also  sought  her  out,  and  greeted  her  with  much  apparent 
gladness,  and  introduced  their  friends  to  her. 

There  was  not  room  on  the  sofa  for  all  these  ladies.  So 
Anna,  deeming  it  discourteous  to  sit,  where  so  many  were 
standing,  arose  from  her  seat  and  stood  up.  And  very  soon 
a  circle  of  the  most  distinguished  men  and  the  most  bril 
liant  women  in  the  assembly  was  formed  around  her.  And 
she  seemed  as  a  queen,  receiving  the  homage  of  her  court. 


MORAL     MADNESS.  201 

Presently,  a  general  buzz  in  the  crowd  announced  some 
interesting  event,  and  before  the  little  excitement  subsided, 
the  commanding  form  of  the  President  was  seen  passing 
with  his  suite  through  the  room. 

In  due  course,  he  drew  near  the  circle  that  surrounded 
Miss  Lyon.  On  seeing  that  young  beauty,  he  immediately 
passed  through  the  circle  that  divided  to  admit  him,  and 
stood  before  her,  holding  out  his  hand,  and  saying,  in  a 
fatherly  and  familiar  manner  : 

"  How  do  you  do,  my  dear  ?  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you 
here,  this  evening.  But  where  is  my  old  friend,  the 
General  ?  " 

Miss  Lyon,  with  a  deep  courtesy,  explained  that  her 
grandfather's  precarious  state  of  health  deprived  him  of 
the  honor  of  waiting  on  his  Excellency. 

The  President  expressed  his  regret  at  this.  And  then 
instead  of  passing  on  and  dispensing  his  courtesies  impar 
tially  among  his  guests,  he  lingered  near  the  beautiful  Anna, 
apparently  as  much  fascinated  by  her  charms,  as  the  young 
est  man  in  his  presence. 

Full  half  an  hour  he  stood  talking  with  the  beauty,  and 
then  reluctantly  bowed  his  adieux,  and  immediately  left  the 
room. 

This  seemed  the  signal  for  the  breaking  up  of  the 
assembly. 

And  then  followed  other  leave-takings,  and  the  pressure 
through  the  corridors  to  the  cloak  rooms  ;  and  the  confusion 
of  tongues  and  of  properties  there,  and  the  crush  in  the 
hall,  and  finally,  the  escape  into  pure,  bracing  air  of  the 
clear  starlight  night  on  the  outside. 

Alexander  and  Anna  had  to  wait  the  turn  of  their  car 
riage  to  drive  up. 

When,  at  length,  they  were  comfortably  seated  within  it, 
Alexander  took  out  his  watch,  and  said  : 

"  Half-past  twelve  o'clock,  and  we  promised  to  be  home  at 


202  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

half-past  eleven.  We  have  kept  your  grandfather  waiting 
for  an  hour." 

And  he  thought  with  compunction  of  one  other  whom  he 
had  kept  waiting  much  more  than  an  hour. 

They  were  driven  rapidly  to  the  hotel.  On  their  arrival, 
Alexander  helped  Anna  out  of  the  carriage  and  hurried  her 
into  the  house,  for  the  night  was  sharp. 

They  found  General  Lyon  up,  and  expecting  them,  with 
much  impatience. 

"  An  hour  behind  time,  Anna,"  he  said. 

(l  The  President  detained  me  in  conversation,  to  the  envy 
of  all  his  other  lady  guests,"  laughed  Anna. 

"And  you  will  forgive  her  delay,"  said  Alexander,  "in 
consequence  of  her  conquest  of  our  President.  I  consider 
it  a  great  success." 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

A    DARK   RIDE. 

As  yet  'tis  midnight  deep,  the  weary  clouds, 

Slow  meeting,  mingle  into  solemn  gloom, 

The  while  the  drowsy  world  lies  lost  in  sleep. — THOMSON. 

As  soon  as  Alexander  Lyon  had  bid  good  night  to  his 
uncle  and  cousin,  he  hurried  to  the  livery  stable  where  he 
had  left  his  horse,  doubting  that  it  would  be  open  at  so  late 
an  hour. 

But  it  was  not  yet  closed  for  the  night ;  so  upon  Mr. 
Lyon's  requirement  one  of  the  hostlers  led  out  the  horse, 
already  saddled  and  bridled  for  the  road. 

"  A  dark  night,  sir,"  said  this  official,  as  he  put  the  reins 
in  the  hands  of  the  rider. 

"  Yes,  and  a  dark  road  before  me,"  replied  the  young 
gentleman. 


A      DARK     RIDE.  203 

"  I  hope  for  your  sake  it  isn't  a  long  one,  sir." 

"  It  is  about  five  miles  directly  in  the  face  of  the  wind," 
laughed  Mr.  Lyon. 

"  Sorry  to  hear  it  on  your  account,  sir.  The  weather's 
sharpish.  The  wind's  got  round  to  the  northud  and 
blows  up  pretty  keenish.  I  wish  you  well  at  your  jour 
ney's  end,  sir." 

"  Thank  you.     Good  night." 

"  Good  night,  sir." 

Alexander  rode  briskly  away. 

The  night  had  grown  bitterly  cold;  but  his  horse  was 
fresh,  and  the  rider  thought  that  in  such  weather  as 
this  it  would  do  the  beast  no  harm  to  ride  him  hard. 
So  he  put  him  into  a  gallop,  and  soon  left  the  gas-lighted, 
populous  streets  behind,  and  found  himself  in  a  dark  and 
lonely  road,  where  nothing  was  to  be  seen  on  either  side 
but  wintry  woods  and  stubble  fields,  frozen  brooks  and 
straggling  fences,  and  at  long  intervals  some  isolated  dwell 
ing. 

At  length  he  came  to  the  old  turnpike  road  leading  through 
the  woods  towards  his  home.  Here  it  was  necessary  to 
slacken  speed  j  for  the  road  was  obstructed  in  many  places, 
and  the  sky  was  very  dark.  So  he  drew  rein  at  the 
entrance  of  the  wood,  and  went  on  in  a  walk. 

Notwithstanding  the  rapidity  with  which  he  had  galloped 
over  the  five  miles  on  the  Seventh  street  road,  his  blood  was 
half  stagnant  with  the  cold.  His  face,  after  smarting 
fiercely  in  the  wind  had  lost  all  sense  of  feeling,  and  his 
hands  were  so  numb  that  he  could  scarcely  hold  the  bridle. 

In  addition  to  his  physical  discomfort  he  experienced 
much  mental  disturbance  ;  arid  both  together  made  him 
irritable  and  angry  with  himself  and  all  the  world.  He 
was  vexed  with  his  uncle  and  cousin  for  being  in  Washing 
ton  :  with  Richard  Hammond  for  being  always  at  hand  to 
wait  upon  the  beautiful  heiress  ;  with  the  old  man  ill  Brazil 


204  THE      CHANGED      BKIDES. 

for  dying  and  leaving  the  young  spendthrift  a  fortune  to 
recommend  him  ;  and,  ahove  all,  with  himself — not  exactly 
for  having  married  poor  little  Drusilla,  but  certainly  foi 
having  by  his  own  act  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  marry 
Anna;  and  worse  than  all,  he  was  vexed  in  advance  with 
his  sweet  little  wife  for  the  reception  he  felt  sure  she  would 
give  him  when  he  should  get  home. 

As  he  rode  slowly  through  the  woods  he  muttered  to  him 
self: 

"I  know  she  has  been  watching  for  me  ever  since  noon 
to-day,  just  because  I  said  that  I  would  be  home  then. 
She  has  been  watching  more  than  twelve  hours.  And  now 
of  course  she  has  worried  herself  into  a  fit  of  intense  anx 
iety,  and  most  likely  of  illness  besides.  And  there  she  is, 
no  doubt,  sitting  with  a  pale  face  and  red  eyes,  weeping 
over  a  smouldering  fire,  or  an  extinguished  one.  And  she 
will  meet  me  either  with  tears  or  sorrowful  reproaches,  or 
both!  And,  after  all,  what  can  I  say  for  myself?  Ah, 
bah,  why  will  women  take  such  things  so  much  to  heart  ? 
As  if  it  was  not  enough  to  have  been  driven  almost  to 
mental  distraction  for  her  sake  to-day,  without  being  sub 
jected  to  a  scene  to-night." 

So  growling  within  himself,  the  culprit  rode  slowly 
onward  towards  his  home,  and  the  nearer  he  got  to  it  the 
more  slowly  he  rode.  He  actually  dreaded  to  meet  Dru 
silla.  But  ride  on  slowly  as  he  might,  he  could  not  put  off 
forever  the  inevitable  moment  of  arrival. 

He  soon  saw  the  light  of  his  home  gleaming  through  the 
trees. 

"  There,  I  knew  it ! "  he  said  to  himself.  "  She  is  sitting 
up  for  me.  There  are  the  drawing-room  windows  all 
ablaze,  and  not  a  shutter  closed.  I  had  a  faint  hope  that 
she  might  have  gone  to  bed  and  cried  herself  to  sleep,  like 
a  child  as  she  is.  But  that's  all  over  now.  I've  got  to 
meet  her  with  her  red  eyes  and  pale  face.  Confound  it  all, 


A     DARK      HIDE.  205 

if  she  does  get  up  a  scene,  I'll  teach  her  a  lesson  she'll  not 
soon  forget !  "  he  growled,  trying  to  work  himself  up  into 
a  fit  of  rage  in  anticipation  of  the  dreaded  meeting.  And 
yet,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  efforts,  his  heart  reproached  him, 
and  he  relented  a  little  towards  his  young  wife.  So  now  it 
was  half  in  anger  and  half  in  compunction  he  drew  near 
his  home. 

To  give  himself  more  time,  to  postpone  the  evil  hour  as 
long  as  possible,  he  first  rode  around  to  the  stable  to  put  up 
his  horse  himself. 

And  then  he  walked  slowly  to  the  house  and  knocked  at 
the  front  door. 

It  flew  open  on  the  instant. 

And  there  stood  Drusilla,  warm,  glad,  beaming  with 
delight,  radiant  with  welcome. 

"  I  heard  you  come,"  she  exclaimed — "  I  heard  you  ride 
around  to  the  stable  first,  and  so  I  was  here  ready  to  open 
for  you.  But  oh  !  how  cold  you  look.  Come  in  quickly," 
she  said,  taking  him  by  his  frozen  hands  and  drawing  him 
into  the  hall,  and  then  closing  and  bolting  the  front  door 
with  her  own  nimble  fingers. 

For  an  instant  he  was  so  "  taken  aback "  by  her  unex 
pected  manner  that  he  positively  shrank  from  her.  But  the 
next  moment  he  caught  her  and  folded  her  to  his  bosom,  as 
he  murmured  : 

"My  darling,  darling  child!  My  own  dearest  and  best 
little  Drusilla  !  how  could  I  ever  leave  you  !  Heart  of  my 
heart,  I  will  never  leave  you  again  for  a  whole  day  alone  as 
long  as  I  live  in  this  world." 

Rash  vow !  but  he  meant,  at  the  moment,  to  keep  it. 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  I  am,"  she  whispered — "  heart  of 
your  heart.  That  is  the  sweetest  and  the  truest  name  you 
ever  called  me.  And  now  let  me  help  you  off  with  your 
overcoat,  and  then  you  can  .come  into  the  drawing-room. 
There  is  a  good  fire." 


206  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

He  let  her  assist  him  in  taking  off  his  coat,  and  then  he 
followed  her  into  the  drawing-room,  where,  as  she  had  said, 
there  was  a  good  fire.  His  easy  chair  was  standing  before 
it,  and  his  furred  slippers  were  lying  on  the  rug.  And  she 
had  even  brought  down  the  boot-jack  and  laid  it  by  the 
slippers. 

Near  the  easy  chair  stood  a  small  round  table,  covered 
with  a  white  damask  cloth  and  laid  for  two  persons. 

A  bright  tea-kettle  sat  singing  before  the  fire,  and  two 
small  silver  covered  dishes  sat  upon  the  hearth. 

Seeing  these  simple  preparations  for  his  comfort  and  see 
ing  the  happy  little  creature  who  had  made  them,  his  heart 
smote  him,  first  for  having  left  her  alone  so  late,  and  then 
for  having  entertained  such  hard  thoughts  of  her. 

"  My  darling  child,  how  kind  of  you  to  do  all  this  for  me. 
But  I  am  sorry  you  took  the  trouble,"  he  said,  putting  his 
arm  around  her  and  drawing  her  towards  him  where  he  sat 
in  his  resting  chair. 

"But  suppose  it  made  me  happy  to  do  it?  Suppose  it 
interested  and  amused  me  while  waiting  for  you?"  she 
asked. 

"  Ah,  'waiting*  indeed  !  how  long  you  have  waited  !  I 
was  in  hopes  that  you  had  gone  to  bed  and  gone  to  sleep  ; 
but  when  I  saw  the  lights  in  the  drawing-room  windows,  I 
knew  that  you  were  still  up." 

"  I  left  the  shutters  open  on  purpose  ;  I  thought  the  light 
would  look  cheerful  to  you  as  you  rode  home  through  the 
woods." 

"  Dear  heart !  I  ought  to  have  known  your  loving  mo 
tive  as  I  came  along  ;  but  I  didn't.  Ah,  weren't  you  tired 
and  sleepy  with  waiting  ? "  he  asked,  as  he  drew  her  on 
his  knee. 

"  Why  no.  It  is  not  so  very  late,  after  all.  And  1  have 
sat  up  many  and  many  a  night  later  than  this  only  to 
ii.ifcL  a  piece  of  needle-work  I  happened  to  be  pleased 


A     DARK      RIDE.  207 

with,  or  book  I  was  interested  in.  And  wouldn't  I  much 
sooner  sit  up  to  give  my  dearest  a  good  warm  supper  after 
after  his  long,  cold  ride  ?  " 

"  My  pet,  my  love,  my  darling,  my — oh  !  what  can  I 
call  you  that  will  be  good  enough  and  dear  enough  for 
you  ?  » 

"  Call  me  no  hard  names  at  all,"  she  said,  gayly,  kissing 
him  and  springing  from  his  lap.  "  But  take  off  your  boots 
while  I  put  supper  on  the  table." 

Poor  little  Drusilla,  these  arrangements  of  hers  were  not 
according  to  the  usages  of  "  good  society."  Now,  Anna 
Lyon  would  have  let  her  husband  go  up  to  the  top  of  the 
house  in  the  cold  before  she  would  have  permitted  the  boot 
jack  to  be  brought  into  the  drawing-room  ;  and  would  have 
let  him  broken  his  fast  in  a  dreary  dining-room,  or  even 
gone  hungry  and  thirsty  to  bed,  before  she  would  have 
allowed  a  kettle  to  be  boiled,  or  a  supper  to  be  laid,  in  the 
drawing-room.  And  only  a  few  hours  before  this  Alex 
ander  had  been  lamenting  in  his  heart  his  little  wife's  defi 
ciencies  in  the  manners  of  "  good  society."  But  now  lie 
was  hungry  and  cold,  and  so, — flagrant  as  her  breach  of 
etiquette  was,  he  did  not  seem  to  see  it ;  he  only  realized 
that  he  was  at  this  moment  the  happiest  man,  with  the 
loveliest  wife,  in  existence. 

The  supper  was  soon  placed  upon  the  table.  Of  the  two 
silver  covered  dishes,  one  was  found  to  contain  a  pair  of 
nicely  roasted  partridges,  and  the  other  equally  well  roasted 
potatoes.  Besides  these,  there  was  a  fresh  salad  prepared, 
as  he  thought  none  but  Drusilla  could  prepare  it.  And 
there  were  light  biscuits  and  delicate  jellies  and  fresh  fruits. 
And  there  were  "  schnapps "  and  lemons  and  loaf  sugar, 
and  all  the  materials  for  the  hot  punch  that  she  thought  he 
would  like  after  his  cold  ride. 

"  Tell  me,  darling,"  said  Alexander,  after  he  had  re 
freshed  himself  with  these  viands,  and  was  taking  his  ease 


208  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

between  the  table  and  the  fire,  "  tell  me  how  you  have 
passed  the  lonely  day.  Were  you  very  lonely  and  very 
anxious  ?  " 

"No,"  she  answered,  "I  wasn't  lonely.  I  was  very  busy, 
and  I  was  thinking  of  you,  and  looking  for  you.  And — 
yes,  I  am  forced  to  admit  that  I  was  a  little  anxious." 

"  Poor  child !  I  had  promised  to  be  home  at  noon. 
What  did  you  think,  and  what  did  you  do  when  I  failed  to 
come  ?  " 

"I  thought  something  had  detained  you  a  little,  and  that 
you  would  be  home  very  soon ;  and — I  took  a  cup  of  tea  and 
bit  of  toast  for  lunch,"  laughed  Drusilla. 

"  And  afterwards,  when  hour  after  hour  passed,  until  our 
late  dinner  time  came,  what  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  waited,  expecting  you  every  minute,  until  some 
hours  past  our  dinner-time,  and  then — I  ate  my  own  din 
ner  and  had  yours  put  away  to  be  kept  warm." 

"  Wise  little  girl." 

"But  I  scarcely  thought  you  would  need  the  dinner.  I 
fancied  you  were  dining  with  some  friend  you  had  met  in 
the  city,  and  that  that  was  keeping  you." 

"  Little  witch  !  And  then  when  it  grew  dark  and 
late  ?  " 

•'"'  Oh,  then  I  grew  a  little  nervous  about  you,  and  had 
ever  so  many  foolish  imaginations — that  robbers  had 
attacked  you  on  the  dark  road,  or  that  the  horse  had  thrown 
you,  or  some  other  fatality  had  overtaken  you  ;  and  so  I 
was  troubled  with  anxiety.  But  I  reasoned  and  fought 
against  that  anxiety.  I  said  to  myself  how  much  more 
likely  it  was  that  you  were  spending  the  evening  with  some 
friend ;  and  then  I  recollected  that  the  Italian  Opera  was 
in  Washington,  and  I  thought  it  most  probable  that  you 
had  gone  there." 

"  Ah  !  well,  and  what  next  ?  " 

"  Why,  about  ten  o'clock  I  called  in  Pina  and  told  her  as 


A      DARK     RIDE.  209 

the  night  was  so  sharp,  and  the  ride  so  long,  you  would 
need  a  warm  supper  when  you  should  arrive  ;  and  that  we 
must  get  one  up  between  us  for  you.  And  so  Pina  dressed 
the  partridges,  and  I  made  the  salad  and  set  the  tahle,  and 
— tli at  was  how  it  was.  And  when  all  was  ready  I  made 
Pina  and  Leo  go  to  hed,  because  the  poor  creatures  have  to 
rise  so  early  in  the  morning.  And  I  told  them  to  leave  the 
shutters  open,  that  the  light  might  be  a  beacon  to  you  on 
this  dark  night.'7 

"My  darling,  darling  child!  I  always  knew  that  your 
nature  was  as  sweet  as  a  saint's,  but  I  never  knew  how 
heavenly  sweet,  until  to-night !  You  have  given  me  such 
loving  welcome  !  You  have  not  even  looked  a  reproach  to 
me  for  disappointing  you,  and  you  have  not  once  asked  me 
why  I  did  it." 

She  stopped  his  words  with  kisses.  And  with  her  arm 
around  his  neck,  and  her  cheek  laid  against  his,  she 
whispered  : 

"  As  if  I  hadn't  faith  in  you.  As  if  I  didn't  love  you 
and  trust  you." 

<(  Oh,  you  dove  !  I  would  not  give  you  for  Anna  Lyon 
and  all  the  fine  ladies  that  live,  or  ever  did,  or  ever  will 
live  !  "  he  said,  warmly  embracing  her. 

"  I  hope,"  she  whispered,  softly,  "  that  you  would  never 
wish  to  give  me  up  for  any  one ;  not  that  I  am  better  than 
others ;  not  that  I  am  so  good  as  they ;  but  because  I  am 
your  own,  and  you  love  me.  But  what  made  you  think  of 
Miss  Lyon  just  then,  dearest  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because,  you  know,  it  was  planned  between  our 
parents,  that  Anna  and  I  should  marry,  whether  we  liked 
to  do  it  or  not ;  fortunately,  neither  of  us  liked  to  do  it." 

"  l  Fortunately  ; '  oh  yes,  how  very  fortunately  !  I  can 
not  bear  to  think  what  I  should  have  done,  if  you  had 
married  Miss  Lyon,"  said  Drusilla,  with  a  shudder. 

Alexander  wished  to  divert  the  conversation  from  the 
13 


210  T  HE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

dangerous  topic  to  which  he  had  so  thoughtlessly  led  it,  so 
he  said  : 

"  And  you  thought  I  had  gone  to  the  Italian  Opera,  this 
evening,  did  you,  my  little  love  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  thought  you  had  dined  with  some  friend,  and 
then  had  gone  with  him  to  see  Lucia  di'  Lammermoor. 
Had  you  not  ?  " 

"  No,  my  darling,  no  ;  I  wouldn't  have  left  you  alone  all 
the  evening,  for  the  sake  of  hearing  the  grandest  opera 
ever  written  and  played." 

"  Wouldn't  you,  Alick  ?  But  you  might  have  done  so. 
I  shouldn't  have  thought  hard  of  it.  I  couldn't  expect  you 
to  he  tied  down  to  me  all  the  time." 

"  But,  my  darling,  I  wouldn't  have,  broken  faith  with  you 
and  stayed  away,  when  I  promised  to  be  home,  for  any 
amusement  under  the  sun.  And  nothing  but  the  most 
urgent  necessity  should  have  kept  me  away  on  this  occa 
sion." 

"  Dear  Alick,  nothing  disagreeable  to  you,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Only  disagreeable,  love,  in  so  far  as  it  detained  me  from 
your  side." 

"  Then  I  am  glad." 

"  It  was  only — some  unexpected  business  connected  with 
my  late  father's  will,"  said  Alexander,  hesitatingly,  and 
again  speaking  a  literal  truth  to  give  a  false  impression. 
For  certainly  his  embarrassments  with  Anna  Lyoii  did 
grow  out  of  his  father's  will — will  that  he,  Alexander, 
should  marry  her. 

But  Drusilla  understood  him  as  speaking  in  a  financial 
sense  only — as  he  intended  that  she  should  j  and  she  bright 
ened  up  and  answered : 

"  Ah,  well,  Alick,  dear,  since  it  was  not  very  vexatious 
business,  never  mind  if  it  did  keep  you  away  from  me  a 
few  hours  longer  than  you  or  I  expected.  I  can  not  hope 
to  have  you  always  here  beside  me  ;  but  you  are  here  now ; 
and  all  ip  made  up  to  you,  is  it  not  ?  " 


A      NEGLECTED      WIFE.  211 

"  Yes,  dear  heart  of  my  heart,  all  is  made  up  to  me  now/' 
said  Alexander,  folding  her  fondly  to  his  heart. 

And  the  night  that  he  had  dreaded  so  much  closed  in 
this  perfect  peace. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A   NEGLECTED    WIFE. 

He  saw  proud  Clara's  face  more  fair, 
He  knew  her  of  broad  lands  the  heir, 
Forgot  his  vows,  his  faith  foreswore, 
And  Constance  was  beloved  no  more. — SCOTT. 

THE  day  and  night  described  in  the  last  chapter  were  the 
types  of  many,  too  many  days  and  nights  that  followed 
them.  Alexander  Lyon  had  placed  himself  in  a  false  posi 
tion  and  had  a  very  difficult  part  to  play  between  his  wife 
and  his  betrothed. 

On  the  morning  after  that  little  supper  the  young  couple 
slept  late  ;  because  on  'the  previous  evening  they  had  found 
their  bright  fireside  so  delightful  that  they  had  remained 
there  billing  and  cooing  like  a  pair  of  lovers,  as  they  still 
were,  until  the  small  hours,  when  at  length  they  went  to 
rest. 

She  was  the  first  of  the  two  to  rise  in  the  morning ;  for 
she  was  an  ardent  little  housewife,  and  she  liked  to  have 
everything  about  her  small  home  in  perfect  order. 

He  slept  on  until  noon,  and  then  awoke  with  a  weight 
upon  his  mind,  though  a  very  vague  idea  of  what  it  meant. 
But  presently,  as  his  brain  grew  clearer,  he  remembered  all 
the  preplexing  events  of  the  preceding  day  and  cursed  his 
fate  for  bringing  him  into  such  an  embarrassing  position. 

As  he  made  his  morning  toilet  he  reflected  that  his  uncle, 
an  "early  bird,"  like  most  old  country  gentlemen,  had 


212  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

probably  some  hours  before  this  called  at  his  room  at  the 
Blank  House  and  found  him  absent,  and  perhaps  had  been 
told  by  the  servants  there  that  he  had  not  been  in  all  night. 

What  could  the  old  gentleman  think  of  such  irregularity 
on  the  part  of  his  nephew  and  intended  son-in-law  ? 

Alexander  scarcely  dared  to  answer  that  question.  But 
full  of  anxious  and  perplexing  thoughts,  he  finished  his 
toilet  and  went  below  stairs. 

In  the  breakfast  room  he  found  a  fine  fire,  a  neat  table, 
and  his  lovely  young  wife  in  her  pretty  morning  dress  of 
white  merino  with  black  trimmings. 

She  put  aside  the  book  she  had  been  reading  and  arose 
to  receive  him.  He  kissed  her  in  silence  and  then  dropped 
heavily  into  his  chair. 

She  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  breakfast  served. 

"  1  hope  you  have  not  waited  for  me,  dear  ?  "  he  languid 
ly  remarked. 

"No;  I  had  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  bit  of  dry  toast  when 
I  first  came  down  ;  but  that  was  nine  o'clock,  and  it  is 
after  one  now  ;  so  I  am  quite  ready  to  take  breakfast 
with  you.  It  will  be  my  lunch." 

Fragrant  Mocha  coffee,  fresh  eggs,  smoked  salmon 
broiled  chicken  and  light  muffins  were  soon  placed  upon 
the  table ;  and  the  two  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

But  tempting  as  the  viands  were  that  stood,  before  him. 
Alexander  could  eat-  but  little. 

Drusilla  noticed  his  want  of  appetite  and  said : 

"  You  are  not  well,  dear.  Have  you  a  headache  ?  Shall 
I  order  some  strong  green  tea  made  for  you  ?  " 

"  No,  Drusa  ;  I  never  drink  tea  in  the  morning  unless  I 
am  really  sick.  And  I  am  quite  well  now  ;  except  that  I 
am  a  little  disturbed  in  regard  to — to  that  business  connected 
with  my  late  father's  will,"  said  Alexander,  evasively. 

"  Oh,  then  it  wasn't  settled  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  and  I  fear  it  will  not  be  for  many  days  yet." 


A    NEGLECTED      WIFE.  213 

"  I  am  sorry,  Alick.  But  never  mind.  Everybody  must 
have  some  little  thing  to  vex  them  ;  but  it  can't  last  forever, 
you  know.  Try  a  little  bit  of  this  smoked  salmon.  It  is 
very  nice." 

To  please  her  he  tried  the  salmon,  and  found  that  it  gave 
him  an  appetite  ;  and  he  made  a  better  breakfast  than  he 
had  expected  to  do. 

When  he  had  finished,  he  rang  the  bell,  which  summoned 
Leo  to  the  room. 

"  Have  my  horse  saddled  and  brought  around  here  direct 
ly,"  he  said  to  the  boy.  Then,  turning  to  his  wife,  he 
added : 

"  I  shall  have  to  ride  into  town  to-day  to  look  after  that 
business  ;  but  I  will  try  to  be  back  before  night.  I  hope 
you  won't  be  very  lonesome,  dear  ?  " 

An  involuntary  expression  of  surprise  and  disappoint 
ment  clouded  her  face  for  an  instant ;  but  she  chased  the 
clouds  away,  and  smilingly  replied : 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shall  be  very  busy.  But  if  you  will  tell  me 
at  what  hour  you  will  be  back,  I  will  have  dinner  ready  for 
you" 

'•Have  dinner  at  the  usual  hour,  my  dear.  I  will  be 
back  in  time  for  it  if  I  possibly  can.  But  do  not  wait  for 
me  beyond  five  o'clock,  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Alick,"  she  answered,  and  again  she  had  to  chase 
away  a  rising  cloud  of  disappointment  by  a  sunny  smile. 

He  went  out  to  prepare  for  his  ride,  and  as  soon  as  he 
was  ready  he  kissed  his  young  wife  and  begged  her  not  to 
mope  ;  and  then  he  mounted  his  horse,  that  stood  saddled 
at  the  door,  and  rode  briskly  away. 

She  looked  after  him  until  he  was  out  of  sight,  and  then 
with  a  sigh  turned  into  the  house. 

Meanwhile  Alexander  rode  rapidly  into  the  city,  and, 
after  leaving  his  horse  at  the  livery  stable,  hurried  anx 
iously  off  to  the  hotel  where  his  uncle  and  cousin  were  stop 
ping,  and  sent  up  his  card. 


214  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

They  were  both  in,  and  he  was  soon  ushered  up  into  their 
private  sitting-room. 

General  Lyon,  reclining  in  his  resting-chair,  was  reading 
the  morning  papers ;  and  Miss  Lyon,  lolling  on  the  sofa, 
was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  libretto  of  the  opera  of 
the  evening. 

Alexander  felt  a  little  guilty  as  he  walked  into  their 
presence. 

But  he  was  instantly  consoled  and  reassured  by  the 
manners  of  both  old  gentleman  and  young  lady. 

"  Oh,  is  that  you,  Alick  ?  Good  morning.  Sit  down. 
Excuse  me  for  not  rising.  This  is  a  shocking  version  of 
II  Trovatore,"  said  Anna,  without  moving,  or  lifting  her 
eyes  from  the  pages  she  was  studying. 

tf  Ah  !  how  do  you  do  ?  Glad  to  see  you.  Intended  to 
walk  around  your  way  this  morning  and  see  how  you  were 
getting  on.  But  really,  in  such  sharp  weather  as  this,  it 
seems  to  require  an  effort  to  leave  the  chimney-corner. 
Hope  you'll  excuse  my  not  calling.7' 

"  With  all  my  heart,  sir,"  said  Alexander,  feeling  im 
mensely  relieved,  and  blessing  his  stars  that  his  uncle  had 
not  called  on  him  and  discovered  his  absence  after  all. 
"  With  all  my  heart,  sir  !  I  could  not  indeed  expect,  and 
would  not  wish  you  to  take  the  trouble.  It  is  rather  my 
duty  always  to  wait  upon  you — a  duty  that  I  shall  always 
be  most  happy  to  perform." 

"You're  a  good  lad,  Alick,  a  good  lad,"  said  the  old 
soldier,  frankly  holding  out  his  hand  to  his  nephew. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  always  be  so  happy  as  to  deserve  your 
good  opinion,  sir,"  said  Alexander,  taking  the  offered  hand 
and  bowing  deeply  over  it. 

But  as  he  lifted  himself  up  again  he  encountered  the 
laughing  eyes  of  Anna,  who  was  regarding  him  with  a 
mocking  smile. 

"  Now,  really,  Alick,  you  know  you  are  growing  so  Joseph 


A      NEGLECTED      WIFE.  215 

Surfacish,  that  I  am  beginning  to  doubt  your  sincerity,"  she 
said. 

Alexander's  countenance  fell.  But  the  old  gentleman 
came  to  the  rescue. 

"  Never  mind  her,  Alick.  Who  ever  does  mind  Anna  ? 
But  listen  to  me.  I  have  made  an  engagement  for  you  this 
evening." 

Alexander  started,  with  an  unpleasant  sensation  about  his 
heart ;  but  the  old  gentleman,  without  noticing  him,  went 
on  : 

"  There  have  been  several  parties  calling  here  this  morn 
ing,  to  invite  Anna  to  go  and  hear  this  celebrated  Italian 
Opera  Troupe.  But  I  excused  her  to  one  and  all,  telling 
them  she  was  engaged  to  go  with  you,  and  also  giving  them 
to  understand  that  she  was  also  engaged  for  life  to  you,  so 
that  they  might  not  waste  any  attentions  upon  her.  And 
I  sent  and  took  a  private  box  for  you  both,  for  this  evening. 
Come  !  no  thanks.  I  don't  desire  any.  It  was  perfectly 
convenient  for  me  to  make  these  arrangements,  to  save  you 
the  trouble." 

Alexander  was  dumb-foundered;  he  could  not  have 
returned  thanks  if  he  had  tried.  He  dropped  into  the  near 
est  seat,  and  wiped  his  face  with  his  handkerchief,  while  the 
old  gentleman  went  on  to  describe  the  attractions  of  the  Ital 
ian  Opera,  and  while  Anna  silently,  with  an  amused  expres 
sion  of  countenance,  watched  both. 

"  I — I  fear,  sir,  that  I  cannot  have  the  honor  intended 
for  me.  I—" 

— "  Cannot  have  the  honor  intended  for  you  ?  What  the 
mischief  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?"  demanded  the  old 
gentleman,  in  surprise  and  displeasure. 

"  A  previous  engagement,  I  regret  to  say,  sir,  stands  in 
the  way." 

"  What  sort  of  an  engagement,  boy  ?  What  sort  of  an 
engagement  ?  " 


216  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  I  had  promised  to  dine  with  a  friend — "  began  Alex 
ander,  speaking  truly  as  to  the  letter,  and  falsely  as  to  the 
spirit.  But  the  old  gentleman  stopped  him. 

"Oh,  a  friend !  a  gentleman,  of  course,  for  it  isn't  possi 
ble  that  you  should  have  promised  to  dine  with  any  lady. 
Bosh,  boy  !  Send  the  man  an  excuse  ;  tell  him  here  is  a 
lady  in  the  case  ;  and  take  au  early  dinner  with  us,  and  be 
ready  to  attend  Anna." 

"  Really,  my  dear  grandfather,  I  wish  you  would  not 
press  this  matter  upon  Mr.  Lyon.  You  know  that  Dick  is 
most  anxious  to  be  my  escort,"  said  Miss  Lyon,  in  very  jus 
tifiable  displeasure. 

Mr.  Lyon  and  Dick.  She  called  Alexander  "  Mr.  Lyon," 
and  Richard  Hammond  "  Dick."  Alexander  noticed  the 
distinction,  and  his  blood  fired ;  but  before  he  could  say  a 
word,  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  flushed  brow,  struck  in : 

"  Dick  ?  What  the  deuce  do  you  mean,  Anna  ?  Do 
you  suppose  I  am  going  to  allow  you  to  be  gallanted  about 
by  Dick  or  any  other  man,  for  that  matter,  to  set  people 
gossipping  ?  You  an  engaged  young  lady !  And  you, 
sir ! "  he  exclaimed,  turning  angrily  to  Alexander — 
"  Thunder  and  lightning !  what  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  your 
excuses  and  your  hesitations  ?  Do  you  mean  to  slight  your 
betrothed,  sir  ?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  answered  Alexander,  earnestly.  "  I 
told  you  the  reason  why  I  hesitated — that  I  had  an  engage 
ment  to  dinner,  but  that  engagement — every  lighter 
engagement — shall  give  way  to  your  will,  sir,  and  my  dear 
cousin's  service." 

And  so  saying  he  bowed  to  his  uncle,  and  would  have 
lifted  his  cousin's  hand  to  his  lips,  but  that  she  drew  it 
away  with  a  mocking  smile  as  she  said  : 

"  Thanks,  Mr.  (  Joseph  Surface.'  As  I  am  resolved  to 
see  the  opera,  and  as  I  cannot  do  so  without  your  escort,  I 
suppose  I  must  accept  it.  Though  I  tell  you  plainly  that 
I  would  much  rather  have  Dick's  company." 


RIVALRY.  217 

"  Anna  ! "  exclaimed  the  general,  again  treating  in 
before  Alexander  could  reply  ;  "  Anna,  this  is  unbearable  ! 
to  tell  your  betrothed  husband  that  you  would  rather  have 
another  man's  company  than  his ! — But  Alick,  my  boy,  I 
must  say  that  you  brought  it  all  on  yourself  by  your  tardi 
ness  and  seeming  indifference. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  if  I  have  seemed  to  be  indifferent, 
when  in  fact  I  was  very  far  from  really  being  so.  I  hope 
my  dear  cousin  will  forgive  me,"  bowed  Alexander. 

"  Oh,  of  course  she  will.  She  spoke  only  from  petulance 
— nothing  else,"  smiled  the  old  gentleman. 

But  Anna  said  nothing. 

At  this  most  unpropitious  moment  Mr.  Richard  Ham 
mond  was  announced  and  entered  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

RIVALRY. 

And  he  -was  jealous,  tho'  he  would  not  show  it, 
For  jealousy  dislikes  the  world  to  know  it. — BYEOK. 

FOR  an  instant  the  rivals  glared  at  each  other ;  and  then 
remembering  in  whose  presence  they  stood,  they  lowered 
their  eyes. 

Richard  Hammond  shook  hands  with  his  uncle  and  his 
Cousin  Anna  and  then  turned  towards  Alexander,  and  the 
kindness  of  his  heart  overcoming  all  his  jealousy  for  the 
moment,  he  frankly  held  out  his  hand,  saying : 

"  How  do  you  do,  Alick  ?     I  hope  you  are  well !  " 

"  Thanks,  quite  so,"  returned  Lyon,  stiffly. 

The  general,  a  frank-hearted  old  soldier,  did  not  like  the 
reception  that  Alick  had  given  Dick.  He  thought  the  suc 
cessful  rival,  the  accepted  lover,  the  promised  husband, 


218  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

might  well  afford  to  be  more  generous ;  and  so  to  make  up 
to  Richard  for  the  coldness  of  Alexander,  he  turned  to  the 
former  arid  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  exclaimed  : 

"Come,  my  boy  !  what  are  you  standing  there  for?  Sit 
down  !  sit  down  !  and  make  yourself  at  .home.  Stay  and 
dine  with  us.  We  shall  he  quite  a  family  party  ! " 

Dick  laughed,  thanked  his  uncle  and  took  the  offered 
seat. 

And  really  soon  his  presence  seemed  to  be  a  godsend  to 
the  constrained  party.  His  gay,  good-humored  manner 
and  conversation  soon  raised  the  spirits  and  warmed  the 
hearts  of  all  the  little  group.  Even  Alexander  had  the 
grace  to  come  out  of  his  sulks,  and  to  say : 

"  I  must  congratulate  you,  Dick,  upon  your  accession  to  a 
large  fortune." 

"  Thank  you,  Alick.  It  came  in  good  time,  I  tell  you 
that.  But  Lord,  Alick,  maybe  after  all  this  fortune  is  only 
so  much  more  steam  clapped  on  the  engine  with  which  the 
demon  is  driving  me  on  the  road  to  ruin !  "  said  Dick,  with 
his  usual  outspoken  truthfulness. 

"  I  hope  not ;  I  hope  not,"  said  Alick. 

"  And  I  believe  not,"  put  in  the  general.  "  I  am  very 
glad  to  know  that  my  nephew  Dick  has  given  up  all  his 
wild  companions,  who  having  spent  one  fortune  for  him, 
would  be  very  glad  to  spend  another." 

"  Ran  away  from  them,  uncle,  ran  away  from  them.  I 
hadn't  courage  to  give  them  up,  so  I  gave  them  '  leg  bail ' 
and  left  them  all  behind  in  Richmond." 

"  Right  my  boy !  right !  whatever  may  be  said  of  the 
heroism  of  braving  bodily  perils,  it  is  much  wiser  to  run 
away  from  moral  danger  than  to  face  it." 

"Dick  cannot  bear  to  give  any  one  pain.  And  if  he  had 
stayed  among  his  old  associates  in  Richmond,  he  would  have 
let  them  ruin  him  again,  rather  than  he  would  have  hurt 
their  feelings  by  cutting  their  acquaintance,"  explained 
Anna. 


RIVALRY.  219 

"  Exactly.  Therefore  I  say  it  was  wiser  to  run  away,  as 
it  will  also  be  wisest  to  stay  away,"  said  the  general. 
"But  here  comes  the  waiter  to  lay  the  cloth  for  dinner." 

They  all  dined  together ;  and  afterwards,  as  there  seemed 
scarcely  any  way  of  eluding  the  engagement,  Alick  took 
Anna  to  the  Opera. 

It  seemed  really  discourteous,  as  Alexander  had  a  whole 
private  box  to  himself  and  Anna,  that  he  would  not  invite 
Dick  to  take  a  seat  in  it ;  but  in  fact  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  do  such  violence  to  his  own  feelings  of  rival^. 

Dick  went  to  the  opera,  however  ;  and  he  occupied  an 
orchestra  chair  in  a  much  better  position  for  seeing  and 
hearing  than  was  Alexander's  and  Anna's  private  box. 

And  when  the  curtain  fell  upon  the  first  act,  he  came 
around  to  the  box,  without  seeming  to  think  that  he  was 
intruding,  and  gayly  and  good-humoredly  talked  and 
laughed  with  his  cousins,  until  the  curtain  rose  upon  the 
second  act.  And  in  the  intervals  of  all  the  succeeding  acts 
he  came  round  to  their  box.  Though  there  were  two  vacant 
seats,  Alexander  never  once  invited  him  to  take  one  of 
them.  Anna  always  did,  however,  and  pressed  him 
cordially  to  sit  down.  But  Dick  always  gayly  declined,  and 
merely  leaning  over  the  back  of  one  of  the  unoccupied 
chairs,  talked  and  laughed  until  the  rising  of  the  curtain 
warned  him  to  make  his  bow  and  retreat. 

The  performance  was  a  very  long  one,  so  that  it  was 
some  time  after  twelve  o'clock  when  Alexander  took  Anna 
back  to  the  hotel  and  gave  her  up  to  the  charge  of  her 
grandfather. 

And  it  was  after  two  o'clock,  when,  half  frozen  and  half 
famished,  worn  out  in  body  and  harassed  in  mind,  he 
reached  his  home. 

As  on  the  evening  previous  the  lights  from  the  little 
drawing-room  windows,  gleaming  through  the  wintry 
woods,  cheered  him  on  his  approach  and  warned  him  that 


220  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

his  loving  wife  was  still  up  and  waiting  to  welcome  him 
home. 

And  there  he  found  a  bright  fire,  a  warm  supper  and  a 
happy  face  to  comfort  him.  As  before  she  forbore  to 
reproach  or  to  question  him,  and  she  received  his  voluntary 
explanation  without  hesitation  and  without  doubt; — but 
this  explanation,  while  true  to  the  letter  as  far  as  it  went, 
was  false  in  the  spirit — giving  her  the  impression  that  still 
"  the  troublesome  business  connected  with  his  father's  will  " 
detained  him  in  town. 

Much  of  his  conversation  now,  while  being  true  to  the 
letter,  was  false  in  the  spirit.  But  how  could  this  possibly 
be  expected  to  last  ? 

Day  after  day  Alexander  rode  in  to  town.  Night  after 
night  he  came  back,  never  earlier  than  one  o'clock,  some 
times  as  late  as  three  or  four ;  for  on  these  occasions  he 
wxmld  have  to  escort  his  cousin  to  a  ball  where  the  festivi 
ties  were  kept  up  until  near  daylight.  And  though  Anna 
being  in  half-mourning  refrained  from  dancing,  she  seldom 
retired  from  the  scene  until  one  or  two  o'clock. 

For  many  days  and  nights  Drusilla  bore  this  state  of 
things  with  exceeding  patience  and  cheerfulness ;  always 
accepting  his  excuses  for  leaving  her  in  the  morning,  and 
always  having  the  lighted  windows,  the  warm  drawing- 
room,  the  bright  fire  and  the  hot  supper  to  welcome  him  at 
night.  But  ah  !  worship  him  as  she  would,  she  was  but  a 
soul  encased  in  flesh  and  blood,  and  her  health  and  spirits 
from  loneliness  and  late  hours,  long  continued,  began  to 
suffer.  There  was  another  cause,  too,  for  the  poor  child's 
failing  strength,  which  had  her  husband  known  it,  should 
have  appealed  strongly  to  his  tenderness.  But  to  do  him 
justice  in  this  particular,  he  did  not  know  it  any  more  than 
his  wife  did.  She  became  nervous  and  irritable,  and  she 
wondered  what  could  ail  her,  to  make  her  so  unlike  her  old 
self.  She  tried  very  hard  first  to  overcome  her  nervous 
irritability,  then  to  keep  it  from  annoying  him. 


RIVALRY.  221 

Alter  he  would  leave  her  each  day  she  would  begin  to 
occupy  herself  diligently,  so  that  her  spirits  might  not 
droop.  She  inspected  every  portion  of  her  house  from  roof 
to  cellar,  and  kept  all  in  perfect  order.  She  did  a  great 
deal  of  needle-work,  she  read  many  books,  she  painted  some 
pictures,  and  she  perfected  herself  in  some  of  the  most 
difficult  pieces  of  music.  So  at  first  she  managed  to  get 
through  her  lonely  days. 

When  the  day's  work  was  done,  and  the  sky  grew  dark, 
and  she  knew  that  a  long,  lonely  night  was  before  her,  she 
would  have  a  bright  fire  lighted  in  the  drawing-room  and 
an  exquisite  little  supper  planned  out  for  her  husband. 

And  then,  when  bed-time  came,  in  her  kindness  of  heart 
she  would  send  her  servants  to  rest,  and  she  would  sit  alone 
by  the  fire,  reading  and  watching  until  his  return.  Some 
times,  in  the  loneliness  of  the  place,  and  of  the  hour,  the 
stillness  would  grow  almost  awful  to  her,  and  she  would  feel 
that  she  must  speak  to  some  human  creature,  or  go  mad,  and 
she  would  be  tempted  to  go  and  call  Pina  up  to  sit  with  her. 
But  there  again  her  compassion  came  in  and  saved  her 
servant  from  being  disturbed.  And  so,  rather  than  incon 
venience  another,  she  would  sit  on .  alone  "  through  the 
dead  waste  and  middle  of  the  night,"  until  she  became  so 
nervous  as  to  dread  to  hear  the  sound  of  her  own  low  breath 
ing,  or  to  see  the  reflection  of  her  own  scared  face  in  the 
glass. 

But  then  how  welcome  the  sound  of  his  horse's  feet,  which 
tier  listening  ears  could  hear  in  the  deep  silence  even  wher. 
iie  was  riding  along  the  open  road  before  he  turned  into  the 
wood. 

Then  in  a  moment  all  was  changed.  The  flush  of  joy 
chased  the  paleness  from  her  cheeks ;  the  light  of  love 
beamed  from  her  eye  ;  and  she  was  ready  to  welcome  him 
with  her  happy  face. 


222  THE     CHANGED     BKIDES. 

CHAPTEE  XXI. 

THE     SORROWS    OF    THE    YOUNG   WIFE. 

Yet  for  all  this,  let  him  stand 

In  my  thoughts,  untouched  by  blame, 
Could  he  help  it,  if  my  hand 

He  had  claimed,  with  hasty  claim  ? 
That  was  wrong,  perhaps,  but  then 

Such  things  be,  and  will  again. 
Women  cannot  judge  for  men. — E.  B.  BROWNING. 

ONE  morning  near  the  last  of  Feburary,  when  the  young 
wife  arose,  leaving  her  husband  still  in  bed  heavily  sleeping 
off  his  fatigue,  she  found  that  it  was  snowing  fast,  the  flakes 
coming  down  fine  and  thick  as  sifted  flour,  and  promising  a 
deep  and  heavy  fall.  And  she  was  glad  to  see  it,  for  she 
said  to  herself : 

"  Surely  Alick  cannot  leave  home  on  such  a  tempestuous 
day  as  this." 

And  if  it  had  been  possible  for  her  fire-side  and  break 
fast  table  to  have  been  brighter  and  more  attractive  than 
they  always  were,  she  would  have  made  them  so  this  morn 
ing  for  his  sake.  And  the  hope,  the  almost  certainty  of 
having  him  home  all  Hay  long  made  her  face  radiant  with 
joy  and  beauty. 

Presently  he  came  down  heavily  enough. 

"  What  beastly  weather  !  "  he  said,  looking  through  the 
window  at  the  thickly  falling  snow. 

Her  face  fell  a  little,  she  scarcely  knew  why.  But  she 
touched  the  bell  and  ordered  the  breakfast  served. 

"  And  tell  Leo  to  have  my  horse  at  the  door  in  half  an 
hour,"  added  Alick. 

"  You  are  not  going  out  on  such  a  day  as  this,  dear 
Alick,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  am.  It  is  that  horrid  business.  Now,  Drusilla, 
my  little  woman,  do  try  to  be  cheerful  and  don't  vex  me  by 
looking  that  way,"  he  said,  as  he  saw  her  grave  face. 


THE    SORROWS     OF     THE     YOUNG     WIFE.       223 

"I  am  only  sorry,  dear,  that  you  have  to  leave  home  in 
such  weather,  that  is  all,"  she  answered,  as  she  turned  and 
busied  herself  with  pouring  out  the  coffee  that  was  just 
then  set  upon  the  table. 

And  he  ate  his  breakfast  in  haste,  dressed  in  haste  and 
then  mounted  his  horse  and  hurried  off  to  town. 

The  snow  continued  to  fall  and  the  day  passed  very 
heavily  with  the  poor  young  wife.  Still  her  thought  was 
for  her  husband. 

"  Oh,  what  a  night  he  will  have  to  come  home  in,"  she 
said  to  herself  again  and  again,  as  she  saw  that  the  weather 
grew  worse  and  worse  as  the  day  waned  later  and  later. 

At  length  towards  evening  she  could  keep  her  anxiety 
to  herself  no  longer,  and  she  said  to  her  maid  : 

"  Oh,  Pina,  what  a  night  for  Mr.  Lyon  to  ride  home  in  ! " 

"  Indeed,  ma'am,  I  don't  think  he  will  come  at  all." 

"  Not  come  home  at  all ! "  echoed  Pina's  mistress, 
aghast. 

"  Why  you  see,  ma'am,  it  will  be  dangerous.  Only  look 
out.  The  fences  are  nearly  all  covered  and  the  snow  is  still 
falling,"  said  the  girl,  pointing  through  the  windows  of  the 
kitchen  where  this  conversation  took  place. 

"  I  see,"  sighed  the  lonely  wife,  and  her  heart  seemed  to 
sink  like  lead  in  her  bosom.  But  then  she  took  herself  to 
task  and  said : 

"  Why  should  I  feel  so  miserable  because  my  husband 
must  stay  away  from  me  for  one  night?  I  would  much 
rather  that  he  should  stay  all  night  in  Washington  than 
risk  his  life  in  attempting  to  return  home  in  the  darkness, 
through  such  a  snow-storm  as  this,  in  which  all  landmarks 
seem  to  be  lost." 

And  so  she  tried  to  reason  with  her  longing  heart. 

At  night,  however,  it  stopped  snowing.  But  the  wind 
came  up  from  the  northwest  and  blew  very  hard,  and  the 
new  fallen  snow  began  to  freeze  as  firm  as  adamant. 


224  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  What  do  you  think  now,  Pina  ?  Do  you  think  your 
master  can  get  home  ?  "  inquired  the  master's  wife  of  her 
maid. 

"  Lor,  ma'am,  why  this  is  worse  than  the  other." 

"  What  is,  Pina  ?"" 

"  This  freeze  is  worse  than  the  falling  snow,  ma'am ; 
because  it  will  make  the  roads  all  as  slippery  as  glass ;  so, 
even  if  his  horse  is  rough  shod,  master  will  hardly  be  able 
to  get  home." 

"  Well,  Pina,  I  trust  that  he  will  run  no  risk.  But,  in 
case  he  should  come,  we  must  have  everything  ready  for 
hi tii  as  usual.  The  worse  the  weather,  the  more  comfort  he 
will  want.  So  you  must  dress  the  wild  duck  for  the  roaster, 
and  I  will  make  a  little  cabinet  pudding,"  said  Pina's  mis 
tress,  tying  on  an  apron  and  tucking  up  her  sleeves. 

"  We  may  prepare  for  him,  ma'am,  but  he  will  never 
return  such  a  night  as  this,  you  may  take  my  word  for  that. 
It  would  be  as  much  as  his  life  and  limbs  are  worth  to 
attempt  it,"  answered  the  girl. 

These  words  made  the  young  wife  very  uneasy.  Much 
as  she  wished  for  his  presence,  she  now  prayed  that  he 
might  not  set  out  to  return.  And  it  was  with  some  com 
fort  she  reflected  that  Alexander  never  unnecessarily  ran 
any  risk ;  that  he  would  certainly  be  able  to  judge  of  the 
dangers  of  the  roads,  and  would  as  certainly  avoid  them. 
Still,  in  the  event  of  his  returning  that  night,  she  was 
determined  to  have  everything  ready  for  him. 

As  night  deepened,  it  grew  colder  and  colder.  Outside 
it  was  like  the  polar  regions.  There 

"  Dread  winter  spread  his  latest  glooms 
And  reigned  tremendous — " 

—all  darkness,  snow  and  ice. 

Inside,  all  was  light,  warmth  and  comfort. 

In  the  drawing-room  a  large  bright  fire  was  burning; 
the  little  table  was  laid  for  supper  j  the  easy  chair  and  the 
warm  slippers  were  ready. 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  225 

At  ten  o'clock,  Drusilla,  as  usual,  would  have  dismissed 
her  maid  to  bed,  but  the  girl  pleaded  to  remain  up  "for 
this  once  "  with  her  mistress. 

"  If  you  please,  ma'am,  master  will  not  be  home  to-night, 
I'm  certain  sure  of  it.  But  you'll  sit  up  all  the  same.  So 
please  let  me  sit  up  with  you  till  you  gives  it  up." 

"  As  you  like,  Pina,"  replied  the  young  mistress. 

And  the  little  lady  settled  herself  in  one  of  the  easy 
chairs  before  the  fire,  and  the  maid  nestled  down  among 
the  foot  cushions  in  the  corner. 

In  less  than  an  hour,  Pina,  overcome  with  the  heat  of 
the  fire  and  the  heaviness  of  her  own  head,  fell  fast  asleep. 

And  Drusilla  watched  on,  almost  as  much  alone  as  if  her 
maid  had  been  a  hundred  miles  away — as  very  likely  she 
was,  in  the  spirit. 

Drusilla  was  hoping  against  hope,  that  her  too  much 
loved  husband  might  return  home  and  in  safety ;  but  she 
could  not  justify  this  hope  to  her  reason,  for  certainly  this 
was  a  night  in  which  no  man  in  his  senses,  who  valued  his 
life  and  limbs,  would  take  the  road ;  and  just  as  certainly, 
Alexander  had  a  wholsome  regard  for  his  own  ;  so  it  was 
not  likely  that  he  would  risk  them. 

Still,  Drusilla  waited  and  watched  until  the  clock  struck 
twelve.  Then,  as  her  maid  was  snoring  sonorously,  to  say 
nothing  of  baking  her  head  by  getting  it  almost  into  the 
fire,  Drusilla  woke  her  up  and  ordered  her  off  to  bed. 

Pina,  too  utterly  wearied  with  watching,  and  too  stupid 
with  sleep  to  make  any  resistance,  stumbled  off  to  her  attic, 
finding  her  way  as  a  somnambulist  might. 

And  Drusilla  was  left  quite  alone.  The  clock  struck 
two.  And  still  she  watched  on  and  on.  She  thought  there 
was  little  use  in  doing  so,  but  she  could  not  help  it.  She 
continued,  at  intervals,  to  stare  through  the  windows,  and 
to  listen  to  ever}r  sound  without,  though  she  saw  nothing 
but  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  the  glimmer  of  the 
14 


226  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

snow-clad,  spectral  looking  trees,  and  heard  nothing  but  the 
howling  of  the  wind  and  the  rattling  of  the  icicles. 

But  suddenly,  through  all  deeper  sounds,  she  heard  the 
merry  ringing  of  sleigh-bells  ! 

And  she  started  to  her  feet,  for  she  knew  in  an  instant, 
that  her  husband  had  come  home  in  a  sleigh — a  possibility 
that  had  never  occurred  either  to  herself  or  her  servant. 

She  ran  to  the  door  and  pulled  it  open.  But  Alexander 
had  turned  around  to  the  stable,  and  so  it  was  some  ten 
minutes  before  he  returned  to  the  door. 

It  flew  open  at  his  knock,  and  Drusilla  threw  herself  in 
his  arms  ;  she  could  not  help  this,  she  was  so  overjoyed  at 
his  almost  unhoped  for  return  in  safety  that  night. 

"  Up  still,  my  faithful  little  darling  ?  "  he  said,  kissing 
her. 

"  Yes  j  and  I  hope  you  are  very  hungry  this  time,  as  well 
as  very  cold,  dear  Alick,  for  I  have  such  a  supper  for  you  ! " 

"  Yes  ?  Well  you  may  swear  that  I  am  famished,  for  I 
have  not  broken  my  fast  since  luncheon,"  he  laughed. 

She  helped  him  to  draw  off  his  overcoat,  and  hung  it  up 
in  the  hall  j  and  then  she  pulled  him  with  affectionate  solic 
itude  and  playful  force  out  from  the  cold  hall  into  the  snug 
little  drawing-room,  and  made  him  comfortable. 

"  Dear  Alick,  your  hands  are  almost  frozen  !  You  must 
have  had  a  real  Laplander's  ride,  and  without  the  Lap 
lander's  furs.  How  came  you  to  undertake  it,  dear  ?  "  she 
asked,  as  she  pushed  him  down  in  his  arm  chair,  and  sat  on 
a  cushion  at  his  side,  and  took  his  icy  hands  between  her 
own  warm  ones,  and  rubbed  them.  "  Why  did  you  come, 
Alick,  dear  ?  " 

"  My  darling,  it  is  bad  enough  for  me  to  stay  away  from 
you  as  much  as  I  do — as  much  as  I  am  compelled  to  do  on 
account  of  that  vexatious  business ;  but  really  it  would  be 
too  bad  to  stay  away  all  night,  and  I  never  mean  to  do 
that,"  he  answered. 


THE    SORROWS    OF    THE    YOUNG    WIFE.       227 

"  Oh,  Alick  dear,  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  you  say  so. 
Arid  I  am  so  glad  you  came  to-night,  since  you  have 
reached  home  in  safety.  The  servants  thought  that  you 
would  not  come,  that  it  would  be  too  dangerous  a  journey  to 
undertake  on  horseback." 

"So  it  would,  my  dear,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  I 
bought  the  sleigh ;  which,  besides,  I  thought  would  be  use 
ful  this  winter." 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,  so  it  will.  And  we  are  both  so  fond 
of  sleighing.  We  shall  have  some  fine  sleighing  together," 
she  said. 

He  made  no  reply  to  the  observation,  for  he  knew  full 
well  that  he  should  have  no  time  to  realize  her  anticipa 
tions. 

"Don't  you  remember,  Alick,  the  fine  sleigh  rides  we 
used  to  have  in  the  Christmas  holidays,  when  you  used  to 
come  home  to  spend  them  ;  and  when  you  used  to  take 
Miss  Anna  out,  and  alwiys  insist  that  your  'child/  as  you 
called  me,  should  go  along,  too?  Do  you  remember, 
Alick?" 

"  Yes,  little  Drusa,  quite  well,"  he  answered  gravely, 
and  with  some  emotion,  as  he  tenderly  smoothed  her  hair 
with  his  hand. 

"Oh,  can  I  ever  forget  all- your  kinaness  to  me  from  that 
time  to  the  very  present  ?  Can  I  ever  do  too  much — can  I 
ever  do  enough  for  you  ?  " 

"  Poor  little  Drusa  ! "  he  murmured. 

"  But  there,  your  hands  are  warm  now,  and  I  will  set  the 
supper  on  the  table,"  said  the  bus}"  little  housewife. 

When  Alick  was  warmed  and  fed,  and  comforted  and 
satisfied,  he  turned  from  the  table  and  the  fire  towards  his 
little  wife,  and  said: 

"Well,  Drusa,  as  I  had  the  sleigh  I  thought  I  might  as 
well  bring  something  home  in  it  besides  myself.  So  I 
walked  into  several  of  the  book  stores  and  picked  up  the 
best  of  th«  new  books  that  are  published." 


228  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

"New  books!  Oil,  thank  3-011,  dear  Alick  ;  where  are 
they  ?  "  eagerly  exclaimed  Drusilla,  rising  from  her  chair  to 
look  for  them  ;  for  she  who  had  so  few  amusements — so 
few  ? — I  should  have  said  no  amusements  at  all, — was 
delighted  at  the  mention  of  new  books.  "Where  are  they, 
Alick  dear  ?  "  she  repeated,  glancing  around  the  room. 

"  Sit  down,  my  pet.  Do  you  think  I  could  have  brought 
them  in  my  hand,  or  in  my  pocket?  Wiry,  they  are  an 
armful  for  a  railway  porter.  I  left  them  in  the  sleigh  in 
the  stable.  You  shall  have  a  glorious  time  over  them  to 
morrow  ;  it  is  too  late  to  look  at  them  to-night  even  if  we 
had  them  lying  before  us  ;  for,  do  you  see  what  o'clock  it 
is?" 

Drusilla  glanced  up  at  the  Ormolu  timepiece  on  the 
mantle  shelf,  and  saw,  with  surprise,  that  it  was  nearly  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

And  Alexander  arose  at  the  same  moment  to  put  up  the 
guard  and  close  the  shutters,  saying,  with  a  smile, 

"We  have  to  be  our  own  servants  when  we  are  so  unrea 
sonable  as  to  sit  up  so  late,  love."  And  soon  after  both 
retired. 

The  next  day  was  intensely  cold,  but  clear  and  brilliant; 
the  ground  was  covered  deep  with  hard  frozen  snow,  and 
the  trees  were  clothed  with  frost  and  ice,  and  the  sun 
shone  out  of  a  bright  blue  sky,  lighting  up  all  the  scene 
with  blinding  radiance. 

Immediately  after  breakfast,  Mr.  Lyon  had  the  sleigh 
brought  around  to  the  door.  The  packages,  left  in  it  from 
the  night  before,  were  ordered  to  be  taken  out  and  brought 
into  the  drawing-room. 

"  Here,  little  one  !  here  are  some  dozens  of  new  books 
that  will  help  you  to  kill  the  time  between  this  and  my 
return,"  said  Alexander,  directing  her  attention  to  the 
packages. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Alick.  But  must  you  go  to  town  again 
to-day  ?  " 


THE    SORROWS     OF     THE     YOUNG     WIFE.       229 

"  Of  course  I  must  j  I  must  go  every  day  for  some  time 

yet." 

Drusilla  suppressed  the  sigh  that  arose  to  her  lips,  but 
she  could  not  forbear  the  question  : 

"  And  stay  late,  Alick  ?  " 

"  That  is  as  it  may  be,  Drusa.  I  shall  return  as  soon  as 
I  can  get  away.  Now  amuse  yourself  with  your  books, 
and  don't  mope." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  won't  mope,"  said  Drusilla.  "  You  are  so 
good  to  me,  Alick,  I  ought  not  to  do  so." 

He  jumped  into  his  sleigh,  and  sped  away  to  the  ringing 
of  the  bells.  And  she  watched  him  out  of  sight,  and  then 
turned  into  the  drawing-room  and  sat  down  among  her  new 
books,  and  began  to  unwrap  them.  Most  of  my  readers 
know  the  delight  of  opening  and  examining  a  package  of 
new  books.  Drusilla  was  absorbed  in  the  pleasure  of  open 
ing  package  after  package,  and  examining  volume  after 
volume,  until  at  length  she  selected  the  book  that  she  wished 
to  read  first,  and  laid  it  aside,  and  then  she  took  the  others 
into  the  library  and  put  them  in  proper  places. 

She  had  scarcely  completed  this  pleasant  piece  of  work, 
before  she  heard  her  maid  calling  to  her: 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  ma'am,  come  here,  please,  and  see  the  snow 
birds." 

She  who  loved  all  living  creatures,  went  into  the  kitchen 
and  looked  from  the  windows,  and  saw  hopping  about  upor 
the  frozen  snow  several  hundred  of  these  little  creatures. 

Drusilla,  who  had  always  spent  her  summers  in  the 
country,  but  her  winters  in  town,  had  never  seen,  or,  if  she 
had  seen,  had  never  particularly  noticed,  these  birds  before. 

"  My  !  what  a  sight !  What  brings  so  many  of  them 
here,  Pina  ?  "  she  inquired,  in  astonishment. 

"  Why,  you  see,  ma'am,  the  ground  and  the  bushes  and 
the  trees  are  all  covered  with  frost  and  snow  and  ice,  and 
they  can't  find  anything  to  eat  in  the  woods  or  fields  or 
lanes,  and  so  they  look  for  food  about  houses." 


230  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Poor  little  things  !     What  do  they  eat,  Pina  ?  " 

t:  Anything  eatable,  ma'am,  that  is  small  enough  for  them 
to  swallow  ; — grains  of  rice,  crumbs  of  bread,  specks  of 
meat " 

"  Oh,  throw  out  whole  handfuls  of  rice  for  them,"  said 
Drusilla. 

"  That  would  hardly  do,  ma'am.  It  would  sink  in  the 
snow  and  be  lost  before  the  birds  could  get  it.  But  if  you 
will  let  me  sprinkle  food  on  all  the  window-sills  around  the 
house,  you  will  see  the  little  creatures  come  in  scores  to  eat. 
And  it  will  amuse  }>ou,  like,  ma'am,  to  sit  and  see  the  art 
of  the  little  rogues,  how  one  will  watch  from  a  bush  to  see 
the  coast  clear,  and  then  notify  the  others  to  come  and 
eat," 

"  Oh,  then,"  said  Drusilla,  with  all  the  eagerness  of  a 
child,  "crumble  up  several  loaves  of  bread,  and  sprinkle 
every  window-sill  of  the  house  full  as  it  will  hold." 

"  Would  you  like  some  traps  set  in  the  woods,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Traps,  what  for  ?  " 

"To  catch  the  birds,  ma'am." 

"  To  catch  the  birds  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am.     They  make  excellent  pies,  and " 

"  Oh,  hush— no  !  " 

"  The  boys  will  catch  them,  ma'am,  if  you  don't.  They 
set  traps  in  the  woods.  And  they  puts  food  under  them. 
And  the  little  birds  go  to  get  it,  and  are  caught  and 
killed." 

"  How  cruel  and  treacherous  !  Poor  little  things,  to  be 
frozen  out,  and  starved  out,  and  to  come  to  us  for  food  and 
shelter,  and  to  be  killed  and  eaten.  The  botys  shan't  trap 
them  on  our  place,  any  way.  So  if  you  or  Leo  find  a  trap 
in  our  woods  break  it  up,  and  if  you  find  a  trapper  whip 
him  !  "  said  the  little  champion  of  birds,  as  she  left  the 
kitchen. 

That  day  passed  with  Drusilla  less  drearily  than  usual. 


THE  SORROWS   OF  THE  YOUNG  W  I  F  E  .  231 

•  When  all  her  household  duties  had  been  discharged,  she 
sat  in  her  snug  little  drawing-room,  feasting  upon  her  new 
books,  and  furtively  watching  the  snow-birds  that  were 
feasting  upon  the  crumbs  on  the  window-sill,  and  which  as 
furtively  watched  her,  and  flew  away  the  instant  they 
caught  her  eyes,  only  to  fly  back  the  instant  they  saw  them 
fall  upon  her  book  again  ;  for  these  little  raiders  did  not  yet 
know  their  benefactress. 

So  quiet  was  this  place  that  the  wild  creatures  of  the 
woods  feared  not  to  approach  it ;  and  Drusilla,  looking 
from  her  window,  could  see  the  squirrel  seated  on  a  twig 
and  nibbling  his  nut,  or  the  opossum  curled  up  in  his  hole, 
or  the  fleet  little  hare  race  across  the  frozen  snow,  or  the 
raccoon  peeping  from  the  hollow  of  his  tree.  It  was  well 
that  this  child  of  nature  loved  nature  with  all  her  children 
so  well,  for  not  a  human  being  could  Drusilla  see  from  her 
window. 

Pier  beautiful  wild  wood  home — beautiful  even  in  the 
dead  of  winter — was  separated  on  all  sides  by  many  acres 
of  thick  woods  from  anj^  public  thoroughfare.  The  road 
leading  through  the  woods  was  a  strictly  private  one  lead 
ing  to  her  house,  and  nowhere  else. 

Drusilla  sat  alternately  reading  and  watching  her  favor 
ites,  until  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  Pina  brought 
in  her  mistress's  simple  dinner  of  boiled  chicken  and  cus 
tard  pudding.  • 

It  was  a  solitary  dinner ;  for  things  had  come  to  such  a 
pass  now  that  the  little  wife,  instead  of  taking  a  luncheon 
in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  waiting  dinner  for  the  hus 
band  who  never,  never  came  to  eat  it,  always  now  dined 
alone  soon  after  noon. 

And  now  Drusilla  consoled  herself  for  the  absence  of  her 
husband  by  thinking  of  the  supper  she  would  prepare  for 
him  and  share  with  him  in  the  evening. 

"  Pina/'  she  said,  as  she  saw  the    snow-birds  fly  away 


232  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

from  the  window-sill  at  her  slightest  motion  ;  "  Pina,  will  I 
never  be  able  to  tame  these  little  creatures  by  kindness  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am  ;  you  may  make  them  so  tame  that 
they  will  come  and  eat  out  of  your  hand." 

«  How — how  can  I  do  that  ?  " 

"By  just  doing  as  you  do  now,  ma'am.  They  will  soon 
find  out  as  you  mean  them  no  harm  but  good,  and  they  will 
cease  to  fear  you  and  begin  to  love  you,"  answered  the  girl, 
as  she  removed  the  dinner  service. 

And  Drusilla  spent  the  afternoon  as  she  had  spent  the 
morning. 

That  night  Alexander,  for  a  wonder,  came  home  as  early 
as  eight  o'clock.  And  the  cheerful  day  was  succeeded  by 
a  happy  evening. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

DIFFICULTIES    OF    DECEPTION". 

Ah,  what  a  tangled  web  we  weave, 

When  first  we  venture  to  deceive  — SCOTT. 

ALEXANDER  had  his  troubles  too,  and  they  were  not  the 
less  trying  because  he  had  brought  them  on  himself  by  his 
own  wrong-doing — rather  the  more  so,  in  fact,  since  remorse 
was  added  to  regret,  and  the  loss  of  self-respect  to  the  loss 
of  domestic  peace. 

He  was  learning  by  personal  experience  that  "  the  way  of 
the  transgressor  is  hard." 

He  found  it  very  difficult  to  play  two  parts  and  live  in 
two  places  at  the  same  time. 

This  was  the  way  his  day  passed.  He  usually  arose  at 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  a  bad  head-ache  and  a 
worse  heart-ache,  made  a  quick  toilet  and  a  poor  breakfast, 


DIFFICULTIES      OF      DECEPTION.  233 

then  threw  himself  into  the  saddle  and  rode  away  as  fast  as 
his  horse's  feet  could  carry  him. 

He  alwaj^s  contrived  to  be  at  his  rooms  in  his  hotel  by 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  lest  his  uncle  should  call  for 
him  and  find  him  out.  And  always  on  entering  his  cham 
ber  he  would  tumble  his  bed  and  slop  his  washstand  to  de 
ceive  the  servants  of  the  hotel  into  the  idea  that  he  had 
slept  there  ;  for  he  was  in  constant  dread  lest  his  uncle 
should  discover  that  he  passed  the  night  elsewhere. 

To  carry  on  the  deception,  every  day  he  breakfasted  at 
the  hotel  table,  and  he  dined  with  his  uncle  and  cousin. 
And  every  evening  he  accompanied  Anna  to  some  place  of 
amusement,  where  she  was  always  the  most  admired  beauty 
in  the  room,  and  where  he  was  the  most  envied  man,  be 
cause  it  was  generally  understood  that  he  was  her  betrothed 
husband. 

He  seldom  returned  home  before  one  o'clock,  and  some 
times  not  before  three  iii  the  morning. 

You  perceive  by  this  how  little  time  he  had  to  bestow  on 
his  young  wife. 

Meanwhile  Drusilla  was  more  lonely  than  words  can  tell. 

Just  think  of  it. 

It  was  the  depth  of  winter. 

She  lived  in  a  lone  house  in  a  thick  wood.  She  had  no 
companion  in  the  house,  no  acquaintance  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  no  correspondent  in  the  world.  She  never  made 
a  visit,  or  had  a  visitor,  or  wrote  a  letter,  or  received  one. 
Her  one  object  in  life  was  her  husband ;  her  one  interest  in 
the  day  his  return  at  night ;  and  if  he  had  given  her  a 
little  more  of  his  company,  if  only  an  evening  now  and 
then,  she  could  have  been  happy ; — or  if,  when  he  did  come 
home,  he  could  have  been  more  cheerful  in  her  presence,  she 
would  have  been  less  miserable. 

But,  ah  !  friends,  Alexander — as  is  always  the  case  with 
an  evil-doer — went  on  from  bad  to  worse. 


234  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

And  when  morning  after  morning  he  gulped  down  his 
coffee  in  hot  haste,  and  hurried  away  from  his  home,  in 
eager  anxiety  ;  and  when  night  after  night  he  returned  in 
the  small  hours,  too  cold,  tired  and  harassed  to  notice  the 
preparations  she  had  made  for  his  comfort,  or  to  share  the 
supper  she  had  kept  waiting  for  him.  or  even  to  bestow  a 
kiss  or  a  smile,  or  a  look  upon  her ;  when,  in  fact,  he 
seemed  to  have  become  estranged  from  her  ;  then,  indeed, 
her  heart  failed,  her  beauty  faded,  and  she  hung  her  head 
like  a  flower  drooping  in  the  cold. 

She  tried  very  hard  to  keep  up  her  spirits  and  preserve 
her  beauty  for  his  sake  and  for  her  own.  For  more  than  all 
earthly  things  she  wished  to  retain  his  love.  And  she 
remembered  how  in  her  childhood,  he  had  scolded  her  for 
crying,  telling  her  that  it  made  her  ugly,  and  that  he  could 
not  possibly  love  an  ugly  little  girl ;  and  how  she  had 
almost  suffocated  herself  then,  in  her  efforts  to  suppress  her 
sobs,  lest  she  should  grow  ugly  and  lose  his  love. 

Then  he  had  been  a  mere  thoughtless  youth,  teasing  a 
timid  child  who  loved  him ;  now  he  was  or  seemed  a 
heartless  man,  torturing  a  sensitive  young  woman,  who  had 
given  her  whole  life  into  his  hands. 

Yet  these  were  not  her  thoughts  of  him  ;  she  did  not 
blame  him  even  to  herself;  she  was  more  ingenious  in  find 
ing  excuses  for  his  conduct,  than  even  he  would  have  been. 
But  she  was  right  in  trying  to  be  always  bright  and  beauti 
ful,  so  as  to  retain  his  love,  since  she  valued  it  so  highly — • 
for  he  did  dislike  ugly  and  sorrowful  faces. 

And  at  length,  when  her  powers  of  self-control  were  ex 
hausted — when  loneliness,  late  hours,  fatigue  of  body  and 
distress  of  mind  had  done  their  work  upon  her  heart  and 
frame,  and  broken  down  her  health  and  spirits — her  pale 
face,  heavy  eyes,  languid  motions  and  faltering  tones  irri 
tated  him,  for  they  were  so  many  severe,  though  silent  and 
involuntary  reproaches  to  him. 


DIFFICULTIES      OF      DECEPTION.          235 

"  As  if  it  were  not  enough,"  lie  sometimes  said  to  him 
self,  "  that  for  her  sake,  I  have  foolishly  given  up  the  most 
beautiful  woman  of  the  day,  and  sacrificed  the  most  brilliant 
prospects  of  my  life,  and  worse  than  all,  placed  myself  in  a 
false  and  degrading  position,  but  that  now,  she  must  make 
me  more  miserable  still,  with  her  moping  manners." 

But  here  his  faithful  conscience  always  rebuked  him  for 
his  injustice,  and  awakened  his  memory  to  remind  him, 
that  his  poor  young  wife  herself,  child  as  she  was,  had  at 
the  time  of  his  proposal  for  her  hand,  set  all  these  possible 
regrets  before,  him,  and  had  warned  him  to  pause  and 
reflect,  before  taking  the  irrevocable  step  of  making  her  his 
wife  ;  and  that  he  himself  had  been  strong  to  overcome  her 
hesitation  and  stubborn  to  maintain  his  own  will. 

And  then  in  a  fit  of  remorse,  he  would  break  out  upon 
himself  with  : 

"  I  am  certainly  the  most  infernal  villain  that  Heaven 
ever  let  live  ! "  or  words  to  the  same  effect. 

In  these  moods  he  would  go  and  buy  something  to  take 
home  to  Brasilia,  some  set  of  jewels,  piece  of  lace,  rich 
shawl,  gay  dress,  or  other  article  of  vanity. 

But  soon  he  saw  that  his  child-bride,  who  was  still  wear 
ing  her  first  mourning  for  her  dead  mother,  valued  these 
things  not  in  themselves,  but  only  as  proofs  of  his  thought 
for  her. 

And  besides,  how  could  jewels  and  fine  clothes  console 
the  loving  young  wife  for  the  lost  society  of  her  husband  ? 

But  Alexander  was  provoked,  that  his  efforts  to  please 
her  were  so  utterly  unavailing.  He  did  not  reflect  that  if 
she  had  been  a  vain,  selfish  woman,  and  had  loved  herself 
more  than  she  loved  him,  she  would  have  been  happy  in  his 
presents,  and  indifferent  to  his  presence. 

But  as  she  was  neither  vain,  nor  selfish,  as  she  loved  him 
rather  than  herself,  she  pined  amidst  all  her  plenty,  because 
he  was  almost  always  absent  from  her. 


231  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

This  pining  became  evident  in  her  appearance,  notwith 
standing  all  her  efforts  to  conceal  it. 

And  sometimes  it  exasperated  him  so  much  that  it  was 
with  difficulty  he  could  restrain  himself  from  reproaching 
her,  and  thus  adding  to  the  sum  of  his  own  injustice  and 
her  misery. 

Often,  also,  his  temper  was  severely  tried  in  town  by 
what  lie  called  the  difficulties  of  his  position,  but  what  any 
one  else  might  have  called  the  hardships  of  the  trans 
gressor. 

One  day  especially,  when  he  rode  into  the  city  a  little 
later  than  usual,  he  found  his  uncle  at  his  room  waiting  for 
him. 

"  Where  the  deuce  is  it,  Alick,  that  you  gallop  off  to 
every  morning  of  your  life  ?  "  inquired  the  old  gentleman, 
who  had  somehow  or  other  got  a  hint  that  his  nephew  rode 
into  Washington  every  morning,  but  had  no  suspicion  that 
he  slept  out  of  the  city  every  night.  "Where  the  deuce  is 
it  that  you  go  ?  "  he  repeated. 

Alick,  taken  by  surprise,  hesitated  before  he  could  sum 
mon  the  presence  of  his  mind,  and  reply  : 

(l  Oh,  I  make  a  practice  of  taking  a  gallop  through  the 
morning  air  for  my  health." 

"  Umph,  umph,  umph  !  "  growled  the  old  gentleman. 
tf  You  look  more  like  you  made  a  practice  of  sitting  over 
your  wine  until  four  or  five,  or  six  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
for  you're  illness." 

Alick  laughed  rather  lugubriously,  it  must  be  confessed, 
for  he  saw  that  the  old  gentleman's  suspicions  were  aroused, 
although,  of  course,  they  must  have  been  of  the  vaguest 
character. 

"Well,"  said  the  general,  "you  have  got  a  busy  day 
before  you,  Alick,  and  no  time  to  lose.  First,  you  have  to 
escort  Anna  to  St.  John's  Church,  to  bo  pvps-'nf  nt  the 
wedding  of  Senor  Don  Emillio  Aravo,  the  s  >n  of  the  Bra- 


DIFFICULTIES      OF      DECEPTION.  237 

zillian  Minister,  with  Mademoiselle  Marie  de  Courcey,  niece 
of  the  French  Ambassador.  All  the  world  is  going,  and 
Anna  is  going  with  them,  of  course." 

"  Satan  fly  away  with  the  Spanish  puppy  and  the  French 
ninny  !  "  was  Alick's  secret  thought.  But  he  bowed,  and 
said  : 

"  Sir,  I  shall  be  most  happy." 

"And  then  you  are  engaged  to  dine  at  Major  General 
Scott's.  And  after  that  to  go  and  take  Anna  to  see  the 
great  new  tragedienne,  Mrs.  Starrs,  in  Lady  Macbeth  ; 
after  which  you  sup  with  me  and  Anna." 

"  What  a  fussy  old  Polonius  uncle  is  getting  to  be,  to  be 
sure !  I  really  think  the  old  man  is  falling  into  his 
dotage,"  thought  Alick  within  himself.  But  he  answered 
aloud : 

"  A  very  pleasant  programme,  sir." 

"  Aye,  I  suppose  you  young  people  think  it  so.  I  confess 
I  don't.  But,  Alick,  my  boy,  I  must  beg  you  to  forego 
your  gallop  to-morrow  morning.  My  old  friend — and  your 
late  father's  oldest  friend — Commodore  Storms,  is  coming  to 
breakfast  with  me  at  eight  o'clock,  and,  of  course,  you  must 
join  us.  It  will  be  the  only  chance  you  will  have  of  seeing 
him,  as  he  is  only  passing  through  the  city  011  his  way 
south,  and  leaves  by  the  mid-day  train  to-morrow." 

Alexander  stared  in  dismay,  and  then  inquired  : 

"  Could  I  not  see  him  to-day,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  he  is  gone  with  a  party  to  visit  Mount  Vernon. 
Beside?,  what  time  have  you  to  do  any  thing  to-day  but 
what  is  appointed  for  you  ?  " 

"None  indeed,"  said  Alexander  with  an  involuntary  sigh, 
which  did  not  escape  the  notice  of  the  old  man. 

"  Does  it  afflict  you  so  much  then  ?  "  enquired  the  gen 
eral. 

"What  sir?" 

"  The  idea  of  your  giving  up  your  mysterious  morning 


238  T  HE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

ride  for  a  oreakfast  with  two  old  Revolutionary  relics  like 
the  commodore  and  myself,"  answered  the  general,  fixing  a 
scrutinizing  gaze  upon  his  nephew's  face. 

"  Oh  no,  sir  !  I — was  thinking  only  how  much  rather  I 
would  see  my  father's  old  friend  sooner  than  later,"  answer 
ed  Alexander,  again  true  in  the  letter  but  false  in  the  spirit 
of  his  reply. 

And  so  Mr.  Lyon  concluded  that  there  was  no  alternative 
for  him  but  to  stay  in  town  all  night  as  well  as  all  day. 
And  he  did  so,  fully  carrying  out  the  programme  sketched 
for  him  by  his  uncle,  but  feeling  all  the  while  great  pain 
from  the  thought  that  his  poor  lonely  young  wife  would  sit 
up  the  whole  night  waiting  anxiously  for  his  return. 

The  next  day  was  quite  as  much  taken  up  with  engage 
ments  as  any  former  day  had  been ;  and  so  it  was  long  past 
midnight  when  Alick  got  home. 

He  found  Drusilla  wan  and  wasted  with  waiting  and 
watching  there  two  days  and  nights  of  suspense  and  anxi 
ety  ;  but  he  saw  no  look  of  reproach  in  her  gentle  eyes, 
heard  no  word  of  blame  from  her  sweet  lips. 

He  perceived  her  sufferings  and  was  angry  with  himself 
for  causing  them,  and  he  began  some  lame  explanation  of 
his  absence. 

But  she  saw  his  embarrassment  and  stopped  his  faltering 
words  with  a  kiss,  and  she  said  : 

"  Dear  Alick,  it  is  enough  that  you  are  here  again  to 
make  me  happy.  You  do  not  need  to  render  your  poor 
little  wife,  who  has  not  much  wisdom  of  her  own,  an  account 
of  your  actions." 

And  she  told  him  the  little  news  of  the  two  days  at  home, 
and  she  laughed  and  jested  and  served  his  supper  with  her 
old  cheerfulness  and  alacrity. 

The  next  morning  Alexander  went  to  town  with  the 
deliberate  purpose  of  ending  his  own  perplexities  and  his 
wife's  sufferings,  by  doing  the  right  thing  and  confessing 
his  secret  marriage,  to  his  uncle. 


DIFFICULTIES   OF   DECEPTION.     239 

But  ah  !  it  always  happened  whenever  an  especial  fit  of 
repentance  moved  Alexander  to  amendment,  something 
occurred  to  throw  him  back  upon  his  evil  course  and  con 
firm  him  in  it. 

So  it  was  on  this  morning. 

He  strolled  into  a  reading-room  and  sat  down  at  one  of 
the  tables  and  took  up  a  paper  to  look  at  the  news  of  the 
day.  He  had  not  been  there  more  than  five  minutes  when 
he  heard  his  cousin  Anna's  name  mentioned  in  connection 
with  his  own.  Impulsively  he  looked  up  and  listened. 

The  speakers,  seated  at  a  table  near,  were  strangers  to 
him,  as  he  evidently  was  to  them,  since  they  discussed  his 
private  affairs  so  freely  in  his  hearing. 

"  I  tell  you  there  is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it.  It  is  all  a 
mistake.  It  is  a  false  report.  The  beautiful  Anna  cares  no 
more  for  young  Lyon  than  she  does  for  you  or  me.  If  she 
cares  for  any  one  on  earth,  it  is  for  that  handsome  fellow, 
Dick  Hammond,  who  has  just  come  into  a  great  fortune," 
said  the  first  speaker. 

"  That  may  all  be  quite  true.  I  am  not  saying  who  she 
cares  for,  but  who  she  is  going  to  marry.  She  may  not 
care  a  pin  for  Lyon,  and  she  may  adore  Hammond  5  but  for 
all  that  she  must  marry  Lyon  and  give  Hammond  the  go 
by,  since  such  was  the  will  of  the  two  ancient  landed  pro 
prietors,  her  grandfather  and  granduncle,  who  long  ago 
decided  that  their  large  estates  should  be  united,"  said  the 
second  speaker. 

"  Well,  if  I  were  the  lady's  choice,  Dick  Hammond,  I 
think  I  should  set  a  very  serious  impediment  between  the 
union  of  those  said  estates." 

"  And  if  I  were  the  betrothed  lover,  Alexander  Lyon,  I 
would  break  Dick's  neck  for  his  presumption,"  said  the  last 
speaker,  as  both  arose  from  the  table  and  strolled  away. 

Alexander's  anger  and  jealousy  were  both  aroused,  ai;d 
his  good  resolutions  were  put  to  flight.  He  arose  niid  lol- 


240  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

lowed  the  two  speakers,  but  they  had  disappeared  in  the 
crowd. 

The.  days  of  duelling  are  past,  thank  Heaven  ;  else  Alex 
ander  would  have  liked  to  have  sought  out  and  called  out 
one  or  both  of  these  male  gossips  and  exchanged  a  shot 
with  either  or  both  of  them  at  ten  paces. 

As  it  was  he  could  only  let  his  anger  cool  down  and  then 
acknowledge  to  himself  that  they  had  really  neither  done 
nor  said  anything  very  wrong.  They  had  only  uncon 
sciously  wounded  his  self-love  and  aroused  his  jealousy. 

Anna  Lyon,  his  beautiful  cousin,  had  always  been  in 
tended  for  himself,  he  said,  and  Dick  Hammond  knew  it. 
And  even  now,  for  all  Dick  Hammond  knew  to  the  con 
trary,  he,  Alick  Lyon,  had  the  exclusive  right  to  Anna's 
regards. 

How  then  did  he,  Dick  Hammond,  dare  to  set  himself 
up  as  a  lover  of  Anna,  and  a  rival  of  her  betrothed  ? 

Yes  !  and  how  dared  Anna,  in  the  face  of  her  parent's 
will  and  her  own  engagements,  receive  and  favor*  him  as 
such  ? 

Alick  ground  his  teeth  with  rage  and  jealousy. 

"  They  must  never  know,  they  shall  never  know,  but 
that  my  claims  to  Anna's  hand  are  as  good  as  they  ever 
were  ! — At  least  they  shall  not  know  it  until  all  possibility 
of  Hammond's  union  with  Anna  is  destroyed,"  said  Alick 
to  himself. 

And  that  day  he  devoted  himself  with  lover-like  as 
siduity  to  his  Cousin  Anna.  And  that  night  he  remained 
in  town  all  night. 

Alas,  for  Drusilla!  She  had  fallen  upon  still  darker 
days ;  for  now  she  never  even  knew  when  waiting  up  for 
her  husband,  whether  he  would  return  or  not. 

Still — still  she  strove  against  despondency  and  hoping 
against  hope,  assumed  some  cheerfulness. 


SILENT      SORROW.  241 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

SILENT     SORROW. 

And  the  little  lady  grew  silent  and  thin, 

Paling  and  ever  paling, 
As  is  the  case  with  a  hid  chagrin, 

And  they  all  said  she  was  ailing. — ROBERT  BROWNING. 

THE  young  wife's  faitli  and  hope  were  sinking  under  the 
pressure  of  coldness  and  solitude ;  and  only  her  undying 
love  survived  in  all  its  strength  and  beauty. 

She  W7as  seriously  ill,  though  she  still  kept  up,  moving 
about  the  house  to  attend  to  her  domestic  affairs  all  day, 
and  sitting  up  to  receive  her  husband  half  the  night. 

Arid  these  exhausting  duties  of  course  made  her  worse. 

And  oh,  illness  in  woman  is  very  repulsive  to  most  men, 
and  especially  to  those  of  Alexander  Lyoii's  fastidious 
nature  and  self-indulgent  habits.  Illness  pales  the  cheeks 
and  dims  the  eyes ;  and  worse  than  all,  it  frets  the  nerves 
and  tries  the  temper. 

So  it  was  with  Drusilla  :  weary  and  anxious,  suffering  in 
mind  and  body,  when  Alexander  came  home  near  morning 
she  could  not  always  welcome  him  with  the  happy  glances 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  receive  from  her. 

And  on  these  occasions  her  sad  face  and  tearful  eyes  so 
displeased  and  irritated  him,  that  he  would  go  off  to  his 
own  room  without  touching  the  refreshments  that  she  had 
got  ready  for  him,  or  even  stopping  to  bestow  a  kind  word 
upon  her. 

He  meant,  by  this  conduct,  to  punish  her  for  what,  in  his 
thoughts,  he  called  "her  sulks."  But  this  sort  of  punish 
ment  nearly  broke  her  loving  heart.  He  caused  her  depres 
sion  and  then  blamed  her  for  being  depressed.  It  was  as 
if  he  had  crushed  a  violet  and  then  blamed  it  for  withering. 

It  was  a  pity,  too,  that  just  at  this  time  such  a  contrast 
15 


242  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

should  have  been  exhibited  between  his  brilliant,  beautiful 
and  imperious  cousin  and  his  little,  pale,  drooping  wife. 

He  would  spend  the  evening  with  Anna  at  some  fashion 
able  assembly,  where  he  saw  her,  in  all  the  splendor  of 
beauty  and  pride  of  place,  the  all-admired  belle  of  the 
season,  the  reigning  queen  of  society  ; — and  then,  full  of 
the  intoxication  of  her  new  charms,  he  would  return  home 
to  find  Drusilla,  pale,  weary  and  depressed,  and  he  would 
start  off  to  his  own  room  to  curse  the  fate  that  had  so  long 
blinded  him  to  the  transcendent  attractions  of  his  high 
born  cousin,  and  bound  him  for  life  to  the  insignificant 
daughter  of  his  housekeeper.  And  the  very  bitterest 
element  in  his  misery  was  the  thought  that,  sooner  or  later, 
his  old  rival,  Richard  Hammond,  must  win  the  priceless 
treasure  that  he  himself  had  so  madly  cast  away. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  if  at  this  time  Alexander  Lyon 
could  possibly  have  devised  any  means  of  secretly  and 
legally  repudiating  his  young  wife,  he  would  not  have 
hesitated  to  do  so.  As  it  was,  he  estranged  himself 
from  her,  and  passed  more  nights  in  his  rooms  at  the 
hotel  than  in  his  home  at  Cedarwood.  But  he  never  gave 
the  gentle  creature  a  single  harsh  word  or  look  ;  with  all 
his  madness — and  his  mood  was  little  less  than  madness 
— he  could  not  do  either;  he  simply  broke  her  spirit  by 
coldness,  neglect  and  avoidance. 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  all  this,  if  he  had  but  known 
it,  in  his  heart  of  hearts  it  was  Drusilla  he  loved  and  not 
Anna. 

He  had  made  no  mistake  in  marrying  this  sweet  girl ;  it 
had  been  a  true  inspiration  that  had  drawn  him  towards  her 
when  he  was  a  youth  and  she  a  child.  She  was  the  better 
half  of  his  spirit,  and  the  guardian  angel  of  his  life,  as 
well  as  the  true  love  of  his  youth.  And  once  he  knew  all 
this  to  be  true  ;  but  now  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten. 

Besides,   Drusilla — soul  and  body,  beyond  all  doubt   or 


SILENT      SORROW.  243 

question — was  his  own  ;  and  therefore  was  she  undervalued 
and  despised  as  something  of  little  worth  ;  while  Anna  was 
unattainable  by  him,  and  likely  to  become  the  wife  of  his 
rival  ;  and  therefore  was  Anna  over-rated  as  a  pearl  beyond 
price,  and  desired  with  passionate  eagerness.  But  whatever 
this  phrenzy  was,  for  the  girl  whom  he  had  known  from  his 
boyhood  up,  and  in  his  thoughts  rejected  as  a  wife  years 
before — it  was  not  love ;  it  was  probably  a  hallucination 
made  up  of  pride,  jealousy,  admiration,  and  the  fascina 
tion  of  the  unattainable.  Alexander  Lyon  had  fancied 
many  a  beauty  in  his  life ;  but  he  had  never  once  loved 
any  other  than  the  young,  devoted  wife  whom  he  now 
so  insanely  wronged  and  grieved. 

And  ah  !  how  severely  she  suffered  in  secret,  how  bit 
terly  she  wept  over  the  ever-increasing  estrangement ;  never 
blaming  him,  however,  even  in  her  thoughts  ;  blaming  her 
self,  rather,  for  not  being  able  to  merit  his  love  and  make 
him  happy ;  never  losing  faith  in  him,  bub  losing  faith  in 
herself. 

Her  love  was  without  a  taint  of  selfishness  ;  but  it  was 
not  without  sin,  for  it  was  idolatrous. 

She  seemed  to  herself  to  have  no  life  but  in  him.  Failing 
as  she  thought,  to  merit  his  love,  and  failing  to  make  him 
happy,  she  was  willing  to  die  to  set  him  free  and  give  him 
peace. 

"  Poor  Alick,"  she  said,  in  her  heart,  as  she  paced  up  and 
down  her  forsaken  chamber  floor,  wringing  her  hands  and 
weeping  bitterly  ;  "  Poor  Alick,  it  is  not  his  fault  that  \ve 
are  both  so  miserable,  it  is  mine.  I  am  not  a  fit  wife  for 
him;  I  never  was;  but  I  loved  him  so!  I  loved  him  so 
Ah,  b.ut  if  I  had  loved  him  rightly  I  never  would  have  let 
him  shipwreck  his  life  upon  me — so  unfit  to  be  his  mate, 
lie  married  me  out  of  pity,  and  I  let  him  do  it,  and  now  I 
deserve  to  be  wretched.  But  he  is  wjetched  too,  though  he 
don't  deserve  to  be  so.  Ah !  what  can  I  do  to  undo  all 
this  ?  " 


244  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

And  in  the  climax  of  her  hysterical  passion  she  was 
almost  ready  to  lay  down  her  young  life  that  her  beloved 
might  step  over  it  into  liberty  and  light. 

"  Oh,  why,  oh,  why  did  he  ever  ruin  his  hopes  by  wed 
ding  me  ?  Why  ?  Oh,  I  know  too  well  why.  Poor  Alick  • 
it  was  out  of  the  goodness  of  his  heart  that  he  did  it !  He 
was  always  so  good  to  me  from  my  infancy  up,  calling 
me  his  child,  giving  me  everything  I  needed,  doing  all 
I  asked.  And  when  he  saw  me  a  poor  little  motherless 
and  homeless  girl,  he  took  pity  on  me,  and  raised  me 
up  and  put  me  on  his  bosom  and  comforted  me  and  tried 
to  love  me  ;  but  he  cannot,  because  I  am  not  lovable  ;  and 
now,  even  now,  he  never  gives  me  an  unkind  word  or  look, 
only  stays  away  from  me  because  he  cannot  love  me,  and  he 
is  too  honest  to  feign  a  love  he  cannot  feel.  Oh,  Alick  !  I 
would  die  to  make  you  free  and  happy  again,  if  it  were  not 
a  sin  !  I  would,  dear,  I  would  !  " 

Such  was  the  burden  of  her  lamentations  in  her  hours  of 
secret  suffering. 

No  word  of  these  sad  plaints  reached  his  ears.  Her 
paroxysms  of  anguish  would  have  exhausted  themselves,  or 
she  would  have  obtained  some  degree  of  self-command  before 
his  late  return  home ;  so  that  though  pale  and  sad,  and 
bearing  the  traces  of  recent  tears,  she  met  him  with  com 
posure  ;  for  she  remembered,  poor  child,  his  abhorrence  of 
an  ugly,  weeping  face. 

But  now  he  had  no  mercy  on  her  ;  she  seemed  to  him  a 
fetter  that  galled  him,  and  he  pitied  himself  a^id  not  her. 

Sometimes,  when  she  looked  even  more  than  usually  pale 
and  ill,  he  wondered  whether  she  was  going  to  die  ;  but  he 
wondered  without  alarm,  and  even  without  pity. 

Drusilla  spent  the  long  winter  evenings  in  reading.  She 
read  a  great  number  of  books,  but  they  were  not  always 
the  most  judiciously  chosen,  or  the  best  calculated  to  cheer 
her  spirits  or  strengthen  her  mind. 


SILENT      SORROW.  245 

Among  the  new  works  that  Alexander  brought  home  one 
night  and  threw  carelessly  upon  the  table,  was  Mrs. 
Crowe's  "  Night  Side  of  Nature." 

And  this  book  subsequently  fell  into  Drusilla's  hands,  and 
she  seized  and  read  it  with  avidity.  And  worse  than  all, 
she  read  it  in  her  lonely  night  watches  in  that  isolated 
country  house. 

The  work,  written  with  great  power  to  prove  the  reality 
of  the  re-appearance  of  departed  spirits  in  this  world,  and 
filled  with  accredited  stories  of  apparitions,  haunted  houses; 
marvellous  visions,  presentiments,  omens,  warnings,  dreams, 
et  cetera,  had  a  great  fascination  for  Drusilla,  and  night 
after  night  she  pored  over  its  dark  pages  with  a  morbid 
fervor. 

There  was  another  book  'that  came  in  her  way  about  the 
same  time,  and  exercised  the  same  fatal  spell  over  her  im 
pressible  imagination.  It  was  that  volume  of  De  Quincy's 
works  containing  the  "  Three  Memorable  Murders,"  and 
worked  up  with  all  the  fearful  intensity  of  the  Opium 
Eater. 

The  effect  of  these  books  upon  her  excitable  nervous 
system  was  terrible. 

This  was  owing  very  much  to  the  circumstances  under 
which  they  were  read.  In  a  solitary  house,  in  a  deep  wood, 
in  the  dead  of  night,  and  in  the  depth  of  winter.  And 
often,  her  imagination  would  be  so  wrought  upon,  that  she 
would  not  dare  to  lift  her  eyes  to  the  looking-glass  over  the 
mantle-piece,  lest  she  should  meet  there  the  reflection  of 
some  face  other  than  her  own,  nor  venture  to  glance  at  the 
windows  on  her  left,  for  fear  she  should  see  some  spectral 
form  peering  in  through  the  darkness. 

And  so,  in  the  appalling  solitude  and  silence  of  the 
scene,  and  of  the  hour,  imaginary  terrors  were  added  to  real 
troubles,  and  between  them  both  her  nervous  system  was 
nearly  broken  down. 


246  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

It  is  true  that  she  might  have  ameliorated  her  condition 
in  more  than  one  way,  but  that  she  had  too  much  con 
sideration  for  others  and  too  little  for  herself. 

She  might  have  gone  to  bed  early  each  night  but  that 
Alexander  had  no  night  key,  and  there  was  no  one  to  let 
him  in  whenever  he  pleased  to  return,  except  herself. 

Also,  she  might  have  made  Pina  sit  up  to  keep  her  com 
pany  ;  but  she  would  not  deprive  the  girl  of  rest. 

Lastly,  she  could  at  least  have  closed  the  window  shutters 
against  that  imaginary  spectral  form  she  always  feared  to 
see;  but  she  chose  to  leave  them  open  that  tlu>  light  from 
her  drawing-room  might  cheer  her  beloved  in  his  late 
approach  to  the  house — whenever  he  chose  to  come  home  ; 
which  was  not  often  at  this  period. 

But  this  state  of  things  could  not  last  forever ;  and  a 
crisis  Mras  at  hand. 

One  dark,  still,  winter  night,  when  not  a  star  was  to  Ixs 
seen  in  the  sky,  and  the  very  air,  as  well  as  the  earth  and 
the  water  seemed  frozen — between  two  and  three  o'clock 
after  midnight,  Drusilla  sat  alone  in  her  drawing-room. 

To  while  away  the  tedious  hours  she  had  read  until  her 
eyes  filmed  and  her  brain  reeled.  And  then  she  had  been 
compelled  to  lay  aside  her  book,  and  sink  back  in  her  rest 
ing  chair. 

In  the  excited  state  of  her  nervous  system  she  could  not 
sleep,  for  she  was  listening  through  the  dead  stillness  of 
deep  night,  hoping  to  hear  the  sound  of  the  horse's  feet, 
that  was  always  the  warning  of  her  husband's  approach. 

And  yet  she  had  no  means  of  knowing  whether  he  would 
return  that  night  or  not. 

As  she  sat  there  waiting  and  listening,  she  could  but 
remember  the  possible  dangers  of  her  position. 

The  house  contained  much  of  the  sort  of  property  that 
tempt  burglars — property  at  once  very  valuable  and  very 
portable — such  as  silver  and  gold  plate,  jewels  and  money. 


SILENT      8  O  R  R  O  W.  247 

She  had  been  living  in  it  now  some  months,  and 
secluded ly  as  she  lived,  her  abode  there,  and  the  richness 
and  defencelessness  of  the  premises  might  well  have  come 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  professional  burglars,  whose  acute- 
ness  in  discovering  such  rich  mines  of  unprotected  treasure 
is  much  finer  than  that  of  the  detectives  who  are  always 
supposed  to  be  on  their  track. 

How  easy — how  perfectly  easy  it  would  be,  she  thought, 
for  even  one  resolute  villain  to  break  through  those  unpro 
tected  glass  windows,  and  murder  her,  and  rob  the  house, 
in  safety  and  at  leisure. 

The  cottage  was  half  a  mile  from  any  other  dwelling 
house,  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  any  public  road.  The 
wildest  shriek  that  might  ever  rise  from  dying  victim  in  its 
rooms,  could  never  be  heard  by  human  ears  without. 

As  Drusilla  remembered  these  circumstances  her  very 
soul  grew  sick  with  terror.  And  was  it  any  wonder  ? 

She  was  a  young,  delicate,  impressible  woman.  And  on 
this  dark  night,  and  in  this  isolated  house  she  was  quito 
alone.  Her  man-servant  wan  in  his  loft  over  the  stables, 
where  he  slept,  with  pistols  by  his  side,  to  guard  the  valu 
able  horses.  And  her  maid-servant  was  in  her  attic  over 
the  kitchen,  in  a  distant  part  of  the  dwelling. 

Any  determined  thief  could  easily  have  entered  the 
house  and  worked  his  will  upon  the  poor  young  neglected 
wife  and  the  property. 

"  Oh  Alick,  dear  Alick,  if  you  could  know  how  much  I 
suffer,  you  would  not  leave  me  so,"  she  groaned,  wringing 
her  hands  and  rising  in  her  restlessness  to  walk  the  floor. 

But  almost  immediately  her  worshipping  heart  rebuked 
her  for  having  cast  even  a  shadow  of  reproach  upon  her 
husband,  and  she  hastened  to  add, 

"  But  it  is  my  own  fault.  He  has  done  everything  for 
my  comfort  here  ;  given  me  a  beautiful  home,  and  attentive 
servants.  And  I  ought  to  be  happy  and  courageous. 


248  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Instead  of  that,  I  am  sad  and  timid,  and  altogether  un 
worthy  to  be  called  his  wife.  I  do  not  wonder  that  he 
wearies  of  me." 

So  weeping  and  wringing  her  hands  she  paced  up  and 
down  the  floor,  until  in  turning  around  she  faced  the  front, 
unclosed  windows,  and  suddenly  uttered  a  piercing  shriek 
and  fell  upon  her  face  in  a  deadly  swoon. 

And  well  she  might.  For  peering  in  at  the  window, 
from  the  darkness  without  was  a  livid  white  face — a  man's 
stern  face. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    SPECTRAL    FACE. 

I  felt  my  senses  slackened  with  the  fright 

And  a  cold  sweat  shrilled  down,  o'er  all  my  limbs, 

As  if  I'd  been  dissolving  into  water. — DRYDEW. 

And  now  the  morning  sky  resumes  her  light, 

And  nature  stands  recovered  of  her  night, 

My  fear,  the  last  of  ills,  remains  behind, 

And  horror  heavy  sick  upon  my  mind. — IBID. 

WHEN  Drusilla  recovered  from  her  deathly  swoon,  the 
cold  gray  light  of  the  winter  morning  was  stealing  through 
the  unshuttered  windows. 

She  lifted  herself  upon  her  elbow  and  gazed  around  her 
in  utter  bewilderment.  Slowly,  slowly  came  memory  back 
to  her.  And  with  it  the  sense  of  fear  and  the  instinct  of 
flight.  But  before  she  could  command  her  chilled  and 
benumbed  limbs,  observation  and  reflection  both  assured  her 
that  there  was  now  no  cause  for  alarm. 

The  windows  were  still  closed  although  the  shutters  were 
open.  Everytbing  in  the  room  was  in  its  usual  place. 
Nothing  had  been  disturbed.  ISTo  intruder  had  been  there. 
Whose  ever  the  face  had  been  that  had  looked  in  upon  her 


THE      SPECTRAL      FACE.  249 

through  the  window  in  the  dead  of  night,  it  had  done  110 
harm. 

The  feeling  of  relief  with  which  Drusilla  acknowledged 
all  this  was  speedily  followed  by  one  of  extreme  depression  ; 
for  by  all  the  signs  around  her,  she  perceived  that  Alexan 
der  had  not  yet  come  home. 

The  lamps  were  still  burning  brightly  in  the  face  of  the 
broadening  day.  And  the  untasted  supper  sat  in  its 
covered  dishes  on  the  hearth.  But  the  fire  had  burned  out 
and  the  room  was  cold. 

Very  drearily  Drusilla  arose  ;  put  out  the  lamps  and  then 
went  up  to  her  own  chamber,  and  rang  the  bell  for  her  ser 
vant,  to  make  her  a  fire. 

"  Good  patience,  ma'am  !  "  exclaimed  the  girl  when  she 
entered  the  chamber  and  found  the  bed  undisturbed,  and 
her  mistress  in  the  dress  of  the  evening  before.  <l  Surely 
ma'am,  you  have  never  been  sitting  up  all  night  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  been  in  bed,  as  you  see,  Pina.  Make  me  a 
fire  as  quickly  as  you  can,  for  I  am  very  cold.  And  then 
bring  me  some  warm  water  and  get  me  a  cup  of  tea,"  said 
Drusilla. 

When  all  these  orders  had  been  obeyed,  and  the  unhappy 
young  wife  had  refreshed  herself  with  a  wash,  a  change  of 
dress  and  a  cup  of  hyson,  and  reclined  at  rest  in  her  easy 
chair,  she  said  to  her  hand-maid  : 

"  Pina — go  and  bring  your  brother  here,  I  wish  to  ques 
tion  him  in  your  presence." 

The  girl  started  at  this  unusual  order,  and  looked 
alarmed,  as  if  she  supposed  that  herself  and  her  brother 
were  to  be  arraigned  upon  some  grave  charge. 

But  her  mistress  perceived  her  fears  and  hastened  to 
relieve  them  by  saying  : 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Pina ;  there  is  nobody  in  fault  that  I 
know  of.  I  only  wish  to  question  your  brother  upon  a  cir 
cumstance  that  occurred  last  night.  Now  go  at  once  and 
fetch  him  here.'7 


2  ~  0  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

The  girl  left  the  room  and  went  to  find  her  fellow  servant, 
who  was  in  the  kitchen  eating  his  breakfast. 

"  You  must  just  leave  off  gormandizing  this  minute  and 
come  up  to  her  directly.  Something's  up  5  but  I  don't 
know  what  it  is.  She  says  she  wants  to  question  you  about 
what  happened  last  night,  whatever  that  was,  if  you  know, 
for  I  don't.  I  hope  you've  not  been  having  unproper  com 
pany,  and  misbehaving  of  yourself  up  there  in  the  stable 
loft,"  said  Pina,  breathlessly,  as  she  stood  before  her 
brother. 

Leo,  with  his  mouth  full  and  his  eyes  starting,  stared  at 
his  sister  in  stupefaction. 

"  Come,  I  say  ;  come  along  with  me  up  to  the  mistress," 
repeated  Pina. 

"  What  for  ?  I  haven't  been  a  doing  of  nothing !  "  ex 
claimed  the  boy. 

"  Well,  tell  her  so,  then,  and  get  her  to  believe  it ;  but 
come  along." 

Leo  reluctantly  left  his  tea  and  muffins  and  bacon,  and 
hesitatingly  followed  Pina  to  the  presence  of  his  mistress, 
where  he  also  expected  to  be  arraigned  upon  some  charge  of 
misconduct. 

But  the  first  worst  words  of  the  little  lady  set  him  at 
ease. 

"  Leo,  have  you  seen  any  suspicious  persons  or  any 
strangers  lurking  about  here  lately  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Lor,  no  ma'am,  no  person  at  all,  not  a  soul,  except  'twas 
master  and  you,  ma'am,  and  Pina  and  me.  The  place  is 
so  out  of  the  way,  you  know,  ma'am.  And  so  lonesome  ! 
Awful  lonesome  I  calls  it,"  answered  the  boy. 

"No  sportsmen  after  birds  or  other  such  small  game  ?  " 

"Not  a  one,  ma'am." 

"  Nor  boys  setting  traps  for  snow-birds  ?  " 

"No,  ma'am.  Bless  you,  ma'am,  hasn't  I  just  told  you. 
how  I've  never  seen  a  human  faro  about  the  place,  except  it 
is  YOU  and  master's  and  me  and  Pina's." 


THE      SPECTRAL     FACE.  251 

"  Well,  /  saw  a  man's  face  between  two  and  three  o'clock 
after  midnight,  peeping  in  at  the  drawing-room  windows," 
said  the  little  lady  very  gravely. 

"  Indeed,  ma'am  ! — whose  could  it  a  been  ?  "  inquired  the 
boy  in  astonishment. 

"  That  is  what  I  do  not  know,  and  what  I  wished  to 
ascertain." 

The  boy  scratched  his  head  and  looked  confounded. 

"  A  face  a  peeping  in  at  the  windows  in  the  dead  oj 
night !  Bless  us  and  save  us  !  "  he  muttered  to  himself. 

"  I  shall  be  feared  to  stay  in  the  house  nights  when  the 
master's  not  in,"  said  Pina,  turning  as  pale  as  one  of  her 
color  could. 

"I  hope  there  is  nothing  to  fear.  I  shall  speak  to  your 
master  as  soon  as  he  comes  home,"  said  Drusilla,  to  re 
assure  her  domestics. 

"  But  there's  so  many  bugglers  about,"  said  Pina,  with  a 
shudder. 

"  And  to  be  sure,  the  house  is  very  unprotected  like  and 
lonesome,  and  there's  a  deal  of  silver  and  gold  into  it," 
added  Leo. 

"I  don't  think  .he  face  was  that  of  a  burglar.  If  it  had 
been,  he  might  have  entered  the  house  and  killed  me,  and 
taken  what  he  wanted.  There  was  nothing  to  prevent 
him,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  Ah-h-h  !  "  screamed  Pina,  "  I  shall  never  dare  to  sleep 
in  the  house  when  master  is  away." 

"  I  shall  ask  your  master  to  allow  Leo  to  sleep  in  the 
house  when  he  himself  means  to  be  absent,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  But  then  they  would  steal  the  horses,"  objected  Leo. 

"  Well,  and  if  they  do  ?  Ain't  the  mistress's  life,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  gold  and  silver  plate,  and  money  and  jewels, 
a  deal  more  vallearble  than  the  hosses,  you " 

Pina  stopped  her  tongue  in  time  not  to  call  her  brother 
bad  names  in  her  mistress's  presence. 


252  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  You  may  both  go  now.  And,  Pina,  say  nothing  of 
what  has  happened.  And  you,  Leo,  keep  your  faculties  on 
the  alert  and  try  to  discover  this  mystery,"  said  the  little 
lady. 

"  What — what  is  it  I  am  to  do  with  my  factories, 
ma'am  ?  "  inquired  the  boy,  doubtingly. 

"  You  are  to  keep  your  eyes  and  ears  open  and  try  to  find 
out  who  it  was  that  looked  into  my  window,"  said  Drusilla, 
smiling  even  in  the  midst  of  her  sadness. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,"  answered  the  boy,  as  he  bowed  himself 
out,  followed  by  his  sister. 

That  day,  owing  to  the  alarm  of  the  previous  night  and 
the  long  swoon,  and  the  awakening  in  the  cold  room, 
Drusilla  was  unusually  ill,  both  in  mind  and  body  ;  she 
remained  in  her  chamber,  wrapped  in  her  dressing  gown 
and  reclining  in  her  easy  chair. 

But  when  evening  came,  from  sheer  force  of  habit,  she 
roused  herself  and  gave  orders  for  a  fire  to  be  kindled  and 
lamps  to  be  lighted  in  the  drawing-room,  and  supper  to  be 
prepared  in  case  her  husband  should  return. 

And  she  dressed  herself  with  care  and  went  down  and 
seated  herself  in  her  usual  place  to  be  ready  to  receive 
him. 

But  another  long  and  lonely  evening  was  before  her? 
with  an  unusual  trial  at  its  close. 

At  ten  o'clock,  as  usual,  Pina  came  in  to  ask  her  mis 
tress  if  there  were  any  more  orders  and  to  bid  her  good 
night. 

"No,  Pina,  I  want  nothing  more  this  evening.  You 
may  go,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  Won't  you  let  me  close  the  shutters,  ma'am,  for  fear 
that  gashly  face  will  look  in  again  ?  " 

"No,  Pina,  they  must  be  left  open  to  guide  your  master 
home.  The  night  is  very  dark,  and  here  are  no  gas-lighted 
streets,  you  know,"  smiled  the  little  lady,  determined  not 
to  yield  to  her  fears. 


THE      SPECTRAL      FACE.  253 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  said  the  girl,  hesitatingly — "  Brother 
Loo,  ma'am,  he  says  if  you  would  take  the  'sponsibility  to 
give  him  an  order  so  to  do,  he  would  stay  in  the  house 
until  master  comes  home.  Shall  I  tell  him  to  do  it, 
ma'am  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  Leo  must  not  disobey  his  master  ;  nor 
can  I  interfere  with  Mr.  Lyon's  arrangements/'  answered 
the  faithful  wife. 

Pina  looked  distressed  ;  and  raising  and  rolling  her 
apron  and  casting  down  her  eyes,  she  ventured  to  say: 

"  Beg  pardon,  ma'am,  but  won't  you  please  be  coaxed  to 
let  Brother  Leo  stay  in  the  house  to  take  care  of  us  instead 
of  the  horses  to-night  ?  " 

"  By  no  means,  Pina.  Say  no  more  about  it,  my  good 
girl,"  answered  the  little  matron,  firmly. 

The  girl  looked  up  at  her  mistress  to  see  if  she  was 
really  in  earnest,  and  then  burst  into  tears  and  sobbed  forth 
the  broken  words  : 

"  Well,  ma'am,  if  you  won't  let  Brother  Leo  stay  in  here 
to  take  care  of  the  house  an'  us,  plea — plea — please  let  me 
go  long  of  him  to  the  stable ;  becau — cau — cause  I  should 
die  of  fright  to  stay  here  with  nobody  but  you,  ma'am, 
please." 

Drusilla  looked  at  the  maid  in  surprise  and  displeasure 
for  a  minute,  and  then  her  beautiful  benevolence  got  the 
ascendancy  over  every  other  emotion,  and  she  answered : 

u  You  poor,  timid  girl,  go  if  you  wish." 

"  And  you  won't  be  ang — ang — angry  long  of  me,  ma'am, 
I  hope  ?  "  inquired  Pina,  half  ashamed  of  herself. 

"  Ko  more  than  I  should  be  angry  with  a  hare  for  run 
ning  away.  It  is  your  nature,  as  it  is  the  hare's,  to  be  cow 
ardly." 

"  Well,  then,  ma'am,  as  Brother  Leo  is  a  waiting  to 
know  what  he  is  to  do,  I  may  go  now,  mayn't  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  go." 


254  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Good-night,  ma'am,  please  ;  and  I  hope  the  Lord  will 
take  care  of  you." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  that  He  will,  Pina.     Good-night." 

And  so  the  girl  retired. 

And  Drusilla  was  left  quite  alone,  not  only  in  the  room 
but  in  the  house.  At  first  she  felt  very  desolate  and 
depressed  and  inclined  to  cry.  But  presently  she  reasoned 
with  herself: 

"  That  timid  girl  was  really  no  protection.  I  am  quite  as 
safe  without  her  as  with  her.  I  must  trust  in  the  Lord  with 
out  whom  ^ '  the  watchman  watcheth  in  vain.'  One  of  our 
•wisest  sages  said,  to  become  heroic,  we  must  be  sure  to  do 
that  which  we  most  fear  to  do.  And  I  suppose  his  words 
must  be  received  in  their  spirit  rather  than  in  the  letter.  I 
fear  to  jump  into  the 'fire,  and  I  will  not  do  so.  And  I  fear, 
oh,  how  I  fear,  to  stay  in  this  house  alone  to-night !  And 
all  the  more  because  I  fear  to  do  it,  I  will  do  it,  rather  than 
break  up  my  husband's  arrangements  by  calling  Leo  from 
the  stables  to  guard  me,  and  rather  than  torture  that  poor 
cowardly  girl  by  making  her  stay  here  to  keep  me  company. 
But  I  will  not  touch  De  Quincey's  or  Mrs.  Crowe's  works 
to-night  to  add  to  my  morbid  terrors.  I  will  read  the  book 
of  comfort." 

And  so  saying,  Drusilla  took  the  Bible  from  its  stand,  and 
opened  at  the  Psalms  of  David,  those  inspired  outpourings 
of  the  soul,  that  have  consoled  and  strengthened — how 
many  millions  of  suffering  and  fainting  hearts,  for  how 
many  thousand  years  ! 

We  must  now  leave  Drusilla  to  meet  the  events  of  the 
night,  and  we  must  turn  to  Alexander,  and  relate  the  cir 
cumstances  that  had  kept  him  away  from  his  home  these 
three  days  past — circumstances  more  ominous  of  evil  to  his 
gentle  wife  than  anything  which  had  as  yet  happened  at 
Cedarwood. 


CAUGHT.  255 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

CAUGHT. 

There's  danger  in  that  dazzling  eye, 

That  woos  thee  with  its  witching  smile? 
Another  when  them  art  not  by, 

Those  beaming  looks  would  fain  beguile.— FRANCES  OSGOOB. 

THIS  was  the  short  session  of  Congress,  which  would 
close  on  the  fourth  of  March.  The  fashionable  season, 
therefore,  was  nearly  over,  and  it  was  ending  in  true  carnival 
style. 

There  were  morning  concerts,  theatricals,  receptions, 
etc.,  all  day;  and  there  were  evening  concerts,  theatri 
cals,  receptions,  dinners,  balls  and  parties  all  night.  And 
"  everybody  who  was  anybody  "  was  expected  to  "  show  " 
at  all. 

The  belle  of  the  season  went  everywhere ;  and  often  ap 
peared  at  half  a  dozen  different  scenes  of  festivitjr  or  revelry 
in  one  night. 

Her  constant  escort,  Alexander  Lyon,  had  no  sinecure. 
He  went  with  her  everywhere  ;  partly  because  his  uncle 
willed  that  he  should  go  with  her,  and  he  could  not  well 
refuse  without  explaining  his  reasons  for  doing  so,  and  he 
could  not  explain,  without  acknowledging  his  secret  mar 
riage  with  Drusilla ;  partly  because  he  imagined  himself  in 
love  with  his  brilliant  cousin  ;  but  mostly  because  he  deter 
mined  that  Richard  Hammond  should  not  supplant  him  in 
his  office  of  escort. 

For  two  days  during  which  he  had  not  appeared  at  his 
home,  he  had  been  on  a  "  perpetual  "  round  of  pleasure  with 
Anna.  The  first  day  he  attended  her  to  a  breakfast  given 
at  the  Executive  Mansion ;  to  a  matinee  musicale  at  the 
French  minister's  ;  to  an  afternoon  debate  in  the  Senate- 
Chamber  ;  to  a  dinner-party  at  General  Stott's;  and  to  the 


2£6  THE      CHANGED      B  K  I  D  E  S  . 

theatre  to  see  a  celebrated  commedienne  ;  and,  lastly,  to  a 
supper  at  General  Lyon's  room  ;  all  this  in  one  day  and 
evening ;  so,  of  course,  he  could  not  get  home  that  night. 
The  next  day  he  went  with  her,  first  to  a  wedding  at  St. 
John's  church,  and  to  the  wedding-breakfast  at  the  house  of 
the  bride's  mother  ;  then  to  hear  part  of  a  very  interesting 
case  at  the  Supreme  Court ;  next  to  the  reception  of  a 
cabinet  minister;  then  to  an  exhibition  of  paintings;  from 
that  to  a  dinner  party  at  the  Brazilian  minister's  ;  and, 
finally,  to  the  very  grandest  ball  of  the  carnival,  given  by 
the  wife|of  a  millionaire,  who  had  taken  a  furnished  house 
for  the  season,  and  reserved  herself  for  this  final  magnifi 
cent  aifair. 

It  was  considered  a  great  distinction  to  get  an  invitation 
to  this  ball.  Only  the  "elite"  were  invited,  and  all  the 
"  elite  "  were  there. 

Anna,  restricted  by  her  mourning  to  a  certain  style  of 
dress  was  still,  as  always,  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most 
admired  woman  of  the  assembly.  And  Alexander  was 
proud  of  her  as  his  reputed  betrothed. 

In  all  the  success  of  the  season  Anna  had  never  had 
such  a  dazzling  triumph  as  upon  this  evening.  She  seemed 
to  turn  all  heads  with  her  bewitching  beauty,  until  at 
length  her  own  brain  seem  dizzied  with  her  conquests.  She 
grew  capricious  and  exasperating.  Alexander  hovered 
around  her;  and  he  would  not  have  left  her  for  a  moment 
that  evening  if  she  had  not,  with  a  furtive  and  angry  flash 
of  her  blazing  blue  eyes,  peremptorily  ordered  him  to  leave 
her.  And  to  complete  his  mortification  and  despair,  she 
beckoned  Richard  Hammond  to  come  to  her,  and  she  re 
tained  him  in  her  suite  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

Alexander  was  half  maddened  by  this  conduct  of  his 
cousin.  His  blood  boiled  when  he  saw  her  smiling  upon 
his  rival ;  and  when  he  saw  that  rival  basking  in  those 
smiles  ;  and  he  would  have  liked  to  have  throttled  Richard 


CAUGHT.  257 

then  and  there;  but  he  knew  that  it  would  never  do  to 
make  a  scene  in  that  place  ;  so  he  stood  scowling  and  mut 
tering  curses,  and  planning  vengeance. 

General  Lyon,  who  for  once  had  been  tempted  to  come 
out  in  the  evening  for  the  sake  of  being  present  at  this 
great  ball,  and  meeting  many  of  his  old  friends  whom  he 
knew  would  be  there,  saw  the  provoking  behavior  of  the 
young  pair  and  resolved  that  as  soon  as  lie  should  have 
them  at  home  he  would  favor  the  coquette  and  the  rival 
with  a  good  sound  reprimanding  lecture.  But  the  festivi 
ties  were  kept  up  all  night ;  and  so  the  old  soldier,  who 
broke  down  at  about  one  o'clock,  w^as  forced  to  retire  and 
leave  the  beauty  and  her  rival  lovers  to  their  own  devices. 

Not,  however,  without  whispering  to  each  of  the  delin 
quents  in  turn  : 

"  I  shall  want  to  see  you  at  my  rooms  to-morrow  at 
twelve  noon." 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  the  ball  broke  up. 

Anna  was  at  length  under  the  necessity  of  giving  Rich 
ard  his  congee,  and  resigning  herself  to  the  charge  of  Alex 
ander,  who,  having  escorted  her  to  the  ball,  was  of  course 
obliged  to  take  her  home. 

Oji  reaching  her  lodgings,  Anna  went  to  bed  to  sleep  off 
her  fatigue.  And  Alexander,  who  had  hardly  spoken  dur 
ing  the  drive  home,  hurried  off  to  his  rooms  at  the  Blank 
House,  to  procure  what  rest  he  could  before  the  hour  at 
which  he  was  to  wrait  upon  his  uncle. 

At  twelve  o'clock  precisely,  the  old  soldier,  having  break 
fasted,  was  seated  in  his  private  parlor  waiting  for  his  frac 
tious  young  people. 

Anna  was  the  first  to  come  in.  And  her  grandfather 
was  just  clearing  his  throat  to  begin  upon  her  wrhen  the 
door  was  opened  and  Mr.  Richard  Hammond  was 
announced. 

"  Ah  !  very  well,  it  is  just  as  easy  to  speak  to  you  both 
16 


258  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

at  the  same  time,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  turning  around 
in  his  chair  and  facing  the  culprits. 

And  very  imposing  looked  the  veteran  as  he  sat  there 
with  his  majestic  person,  grave  countenance  and  silver  hair 
and  beard. 

And  the  young  cousins  were  certainly  awed  by  the 
dignity  of  his  aspect  as  well  as  abashed  by  a  sense  of  their 
own  follies. 

"Come  and  stand  before  me,  sir  and  madam."  (This 
gentleman  of  the  old  school,  always  on  ceremonious  occa 
sions,  addressed  ladies,  whether  married  or  single,  by  the 
title  of  "  madam,"  which  in  its  true  meaning  is  simply  ma 
•dame,  or  my  lady,  and  applies  with  equal  propriety  to 
maids  or  matrons.) 

"  Sir  and  madam,  come  and  stand  before  me,"  he  said. 

And  the  young  people,  with  the  reverence  they  bad  been 
educated  to  show  to  age,  approached  and  stood  before  the 
old  man. 

Their  ready  obedience  mollified  him  to  a  certain  extent ; 
for  when  he  spoke  again  it  was  in  a  milder  manner. 

"  My  daughter  and  my  nephew,"  he  said,  "  your  conduct 
lately,  and  especially  your  deportment  last  evening,  has 
shamed  and  grieved  me.  It  might  be  said  of  our  ancient 
house,  as  it  has  been  said  of  another  noble  line,  that  all  the 
men  were  brave  and  all  the  women  pure.  Let  me  not  see 
in  you  two  the  first  exceptions  to  that  proud  rule." 

The  cheeks  of  the  young  lady  and  the  brow  of  the  young 
gentleman  flushed  crimson  with  mortification  ;  but  neither 
spoke,  and  the  old  gentleman  continued  : 

"  No  brave  man  ever  tries  to  supplant  an  accepted  suitor. 
And  no  pure  woman  ever  encourages  the  rival  of  her  be 
trothed." 

The  flush  deepened  on  the  cheeks  of  Anna  and  on  the 
brow  of  Richard,  and  both  oast  down  their  eyes,  but  neither 
opened  their  lips. 


CAUGHT.  259 

"  And,"  proceeded  the  veteran  hero,  "  I  should  blush  foi 
the  daughter  of  nr^  house  who  should  prove  a  coquette,  as  I 
should  blush  for  the  son  who  should  prove  a  coward.  My 
children,  I  hope  I  have  said  enough.  Be  brave  as  all  the 
men  of  our  line,  and  pure  as  all  its  women." 

"Richard,"  said  Anna,  with  eyes  flashing  through  their 
tears,  "  Cousin  Richard,  you  must  bid  me  farewell  here, 
now,  and  forever." 

He  took  the  hand  she  extended  to  him,  and  holding  it 
within  his  own,  turned  to  his  uncle  and  said  : 

"  Sir,  you  have  said  enough,  and  so  has  my  cousin. 
What  it  costs  me  to  leave  her,  only  heaven  knows.  But 
you  have  made  an  appeal  that  cannot  be  resisted,  and  I  bow 
before  it.  Farewell,  sir  !  And  Anna,  my  cousin,  good-bye  ! 
Good-bye  !  God  bless  you." 

And  after  wringing  Anna's  hand,  he  dropped  it,  bowed 
to  his  uncle,  and  hastened  away  to  conceal  the  tears  that 
rushed  to  his  eyes. 

Anna  threw  herself  down  upon  the  sofa,  buried  her  head 
in  its  pillows,  and  sobbed  convulsively. 

The  old  man,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back, 
and  his  silver-haired  head  bowed  upon  his  bosom,  walked 
slowly  up  and  down  the  floor.  At  length,  he  came  to  his 
sobbing  daughter,  and  laying  his  hand  tenderly  upon  her 
head,  said  : 

"  I  am  sorry,  Anna.  I  am  sorry,  my  child.  I  would  I 
could  bear  all  pain  in  your  stead.  But,  Anna,  I  cannot 
bear  this  pang  for  you.  And  you  know  that  faith  must  be 
kept,  though  hearts  be  grieved- — aye,  or — 

Before  he  could  finish  his  sentence,  the  door  was  opened, 
and  Mr.  Lyon  was  announced. 

On  seeing  Alexander  enter,  Anna  started  up  from  the 
sofa,  and  hurried  from  the  room. 

"  Good  morning,  sir.  I  hope  I  have  not  disturbed  my 
cousin  ?  "  said  Mr.  Lyon,  bowing,  and  shaking  hands  with 
his  uncle. 


260  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Sit  down,  Alick,"  said  the  old  man,  without  replying 
to  his  observation.  "  I  wish  to  speak  to  yon." 

Alexander  seated  himself,  and  looked  attentive. 

"  Alick,  I  saw  how  much  annoyed  you  were  last  night  by 
Richard's  marked  attentions  to  Anna,  and  her  seeming 
encouragement  of  them." 

"  '  Seeming,'  sir!  It  was  more  than  seeming;  and  much 
more  than  mere  (  encouragement.'  Sir,  she  solicited  those 
attentions,"  said  Alexander,  with  scarcely  suppressed 
indignation,  and  entirely  forgetting  that  he  certainly  had 
no  right  to  object  to  all  this. 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut,  tut,  boy,  that  is  very  strong  language. 
However,  I  can  overlook  it,  as  the  provocation  was  very 
great.  But,  Alick,  it  was  only  the  mischievous  spirit  of  a 
spoiled  beauty  on  her  part,  and  the  vanity  of  a  coxcomb  on 
his.  I  have  had  them  both  up  before  me  this  morning,  and 
spoken  some  words  to  them  that  they  will  not  readily 
forget.  Anna  has  dismissed  .Richard  once  for  all.  And  he 
has  bid  us  good-bye,  and  is  gone  for  good." 

Alexander  looked  up  in  surprise  and  pleasure. 

"  Yes,  it  is  so,"  said  the  general. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  was  that  the  reason  why  my  cousin 
was  so  very  much  overcome,  and  ran  from  the  room  as  soon 
as  I  came  in  ?  "  questioned  Alexander,  his  jealous  doubts 
again  awakening. 

"  Um-m,  well,  you  see  I  had  said  some  pretty  severe 
words  to  her  and  made  her  cry.  But  it  is  well  she  is  gone, 
as  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  in  private." 

a  Yes  sir  ? "  said  Alexander,  hesitatingly  and  with  a 
guilty  twinge,  for  his  conscience  immediately  awakened  his 
fears.  What  was  it  his  uncle  wanted  to  say  to  him  ?  Had 
the  old  man  got  an  inkling  of  the  cottage  at  Cedarwood 
and  its  inmates  ?  Scarcely  likely  he  thought,  but  still  he 
felt  uneasy  until  the  general  said : 

"  Alexander  rny  boy,  it  is  now  nearly  five  months  since 


CAUGHT.  261 

the  lamented  death  of  your  dear  mother,  my  esteemed  sister- 
in-law.  And  I  do  not  for  my  part,  see  why  your  marriage 
with  Anna  should  be  longer  deferred.  Long  engagements 
are  very  injudicious  indeed;  arid  your  engagement  has  been 
an  exceedingly  prolonged  one.  And  1  think  now  that  it 
should  terminate  in  marriage.  Come,  what  do  you  say?" 

Alexander  turned  hot  arid  cold  ;  attempted  to  speak  and 
failed. 

The  old  gentleman  ascribed  all  his  emotion  to  excess  of 
love,  surprise  and  joy. 

"  Yes,  my  boy,  I  really  mean  it,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  To 
defer  the  atfair  longer  would  not  be  so  much  of  a  respect 
ful  tribute  to  the  memory  of  your  dear  mother,  as  a  super 
stitious  observance.  Come  !  find  your  tongue,  man  !  "  find 
your  tongue ! " 

"  The  question  must  be  referred  to  my  beautiful  betrothed 
sir.  It  will  be  for  her  to  decide  it,"  said  Alexander. 

"  Oh,  aye,  certainly,  to  be  sure ;  it  will  be  for  her  to 
decide  it ;  but  it  will  be  for  you  to  induce  her  to  decide  it 
in  your  favor,  my  lad,"  chuckled  the  old  gentleman. 
"  And  as  you  are  to  take  her  to  see  Saviola's  new  picture  to 
day,  you  will  have  a  fine  opportunity  of  doing  so,"  he 
added. 

At  that  moment  the  door  was  again  opened,  and  Commo 
dore  Staughton  was  announced. 

And  as  the  old  naval  hero  entered  the  room,  Alexander 
arose  and  bowed  and  made  his  escape. 

But  Mr.  Lyon  did  not  attend  his  cousin  to  the  picture 
gallery  that  afternoon.  Anna  pleaded  excessive  fatigue, 
and  with  good  reason,  arid  kept  her  room  until  evening, 
when  she  went,  attended  by  Alexander,  to  a  reception  at 
the  Executive  Mansion,  that  was  the  last  and  greatest  of 
the  season. 


* 
262  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

A    MEMORABLE    NIGHT. 

'Tis  only  the  obscure  is  terrible ; 
Imagination  frames  events  unknown, 
In  wild  fantastic  shapes  of  hideous  ruin, 
And  what  it  fears,  creates. — HANNAH  MORE. 

IT  was  two  hours  after  midnight,  on  a  keen  March  morn 
ing,  when  Alexander  Lyon,  in  the  face  of  a  fierce  north 
west  wind,  rode  on  towards  his  almost  forsaken  home. 

His  frame  of  mind  was  not  enviable. 

Never  since  he  had  entered  upon  his  life  of  deception  had 
his  double-dealing  so  much  disturbed  him.  The  discovery 
of  his  duplicity  was  now  impending.  His  uncle  had  pro 
posed  his  immediate  marriage  with  his  betrothed  j  and 
should  the  obstinate  old  gentleman  persist  in  pushing  on 
the  project,  and  should  Anna  raise  no  objection  to  it, 
there  would  be  no  other  course  for  Alexander  to  pursue  but 
frankly  to  confess  his  secret  marriage  with  Drusilla,  and  so 
brave  the  old  soldier's  roused  wrath,  and  bear  the  young 
beauty's  bitter  scorn. 

Yet,  still  Mr.  Lyon  resolved  to  delay  the  degradation  of 
such  a  disclosure,  and  the  shame  of  such  a  scene  as  long  as 
possible,  for  still  he  hoped,  "  out  of  this  nettle  danger  to 
pluck  the  flower  *  »fety." 

It  was  possible,  he  thought,  that  his  uncle  might  not  per 
severe  in  his  purpose,  and  it  was  probable  that  Anna  herself 
would  be  the  first  to  object  to  a  precipitated  wedding,  and 
would  insist  that  the  programme  should  be  followed,  and 
that  the  full  year  of  mourning  for  his  mother  should  elapse 
before  Alexander  should  claim  her  hand. 

There  yet  remained  nearly  eight  months  to  the  end  of 
this  probation.  In  this  time,  how  much,  he  reflected,  might 
happen  to  deliver  him  from  his  disagreeable  dilemma. 


A      MEMORABLE      NIGHT.  263 

Drusilla  might  die. 

He  felt  a  pang  of  shame  and  sorrow  as  this  idea  entered 
his  mind.  Yet  still  he  entertained  it.  Drusilla  was  now 
declining  in  health,  and  she  might  die.  And  in  such  a  case 
he  should  he  free  from  the  trammels  of  his  reckless  marriage, 
and  from  the  necessity  of  making  the  humiliating  confes 
sion  that  he  had  ever  worn  them. 

Agitated  by  these  evil  thoughts,  he  rode  rapidly  onward 
towards  Cedarwood. 

As  he  entered  the  private  road  leading  through  the  dark 
wood  he  saw  the  beacon  lights  of  his  home  in  the  drawing- 
room  windows,  shining  out  to  guide  him  on  his  way. 

"  She  is  waiting  for  me,  poor  child,"  he  said,  half  in  com 
passion,  half  in  contempt.  "  Still  waiting  and  watching 
as  she  has  been  doing  no  doubt,  for  the  last  three  nights — 
the  last  three  nights  !  Ah  !  and  how  many  nights  behind 
them  !  Poor  little  miserable  !  I  wish  I  had  never  seen 
her!" 

So  muttering  to  himself  Alexander  rode  around  to  the 
stable  and  put  up  his  horse,  and  then  walked  back  to  the 
house  and  knocked  at  the  front  door. 

It  did  not  fly  open  as  usual  at  his  summons,  so  he  knocked 
again,  louder  than  before ;  but  there  was  no  response. 

Then  he  sounded  an  alarm  upon  the  knocker,  and  waited 
for  the  result. 

But  when  the  noise  he  made  died  away,  all  remained 
silent  in  the  house. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  the  meaning  of  this,  I  should  like  to 
Know  ?  "  he  inquired  of  himself,  as  he  went  down  the  steps 
and  climbed  up  to  the  sill  of  the  front  windows,  and  looked 
into  the  drawing-room. 

The  room  was  brilliantly  lighted  up,  but  the  fire  in  the 
grate  had  burned  low  ;  the  tin  tasted  supper  covered  up  on 
the  hearth  had  probably  grown  cold;  and  the  little  guar 
dian  angel  of  t'ie  place  was  no  where  to  be  seen. 


264  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"Where  the  mischief  can  she  be?"  he  askt-d  himself; 
and  having  frequently  expressed  annoyance  that  she  should 
sit  up  late  to  let  him  in,  he  now  felt  vexation  that  she 
should  have  gone  to  rest,  and  left  him  to  get  in  as  he  could- 

There  was  nothing  now  for  him  to  do  but  to  go  back  to 
the  stable  and  rouse  up  his  man-servant,  and  get  the  key  of 
the  kitchen  door,  by  which  that  functionary  always  let  him 
self  in  in  the  morning  to  make  the  fires. 

Leo  slept  in  the  loft  over  the  carriage-room,  which  was 
shut  off  from  the  horse  stalls,  and  locked  within. 

And  it  required  considerable  knocking  and  calling  before 
the  man  could  be  awakened. 

When  at  last  he  aroused  he  started  up  in  terror  shout 
ing; 

"  Who's  there  ?  Thieves  !  murder  !  fire  !  — go  away,  or 
I'll  shoot ! » 

"  Coward,  and  fool ! — come  down  and  open  the  door  !  " 
loudly  and  angrily  exclaimed  his  master. 

But  before  Mr.  Lyon  had  fairly  got  the  words  out  of  his 
mouth  Leo  put  his  pistol  out  of  the  window,  and  pulled  the 
trigger  and  blazed  away. 

The  ball  whizzed  past  within  an  inch  of  the  ear  of  Alex 
ander,  who  instinctively  dodged  and  shrank  out  of  the 
range  of  fire,  as  he  shouted : 

"Stop  that,  you  villain!  What  do  you  mean,  you  pol 
troon  ?  It  is  I,  your  master." 

But  the  man  was  mad  with  terror ;  and  even  while  his 
master  spoke,  fired  again  and  again,  until  he  had  discharged 
six  shots  from  his  revolver;  and  then  he  retired  from  the 
window. 

"  And  now,  you  scoundrel !  "  again  shouted  Mr.  Lyon,  as 
soon  as  silence  was  restored.  Ct  Do  you  hear  me — do  you 
know  me  now  ?  I  am  your  master.  Coine  down  and  open 
th*1  door  ;  I  want  .you." 

•.   minute   passed,  and  then  the  voice  of  Leo  was  heard 
fr  l   i  .*!'  :vt .  i  ailing  cautiously  : 


A      MEMORABLE      NIGHT.  265 

"  Marse  Alick,  Marse  Alick  !     Is  it  you,  sir  ?  " 
"Of  course  it  is  I,  you  cursed  idiot!  who  else  should  it 
be  ?     And  it  is  very  well  for  you  that  I  am  living  to  answer, 
and  you  are  not  a  murderer.      Come  down  instantly,  I  say, 
and  open  the  door. 

u  Lor,  Leo,  chile,  it  is  marster  ;  I  knows  his  speech.  So 
let  him  in,"  spoke  another  lo\v  voice,  which  Mr.  Lyon,  in 
astonishment,  recognized  as  belonging  to  Pina. 

Another  minute  passed,  and  then  Leo  came  down,  with 
his  teeth  chattering  from  cold  and  fright,  and  opened  the 
door. 

"And  now,  you  villain!  what  have  you  got  to  say  for 
yourself,  that  I  shall  not  have  you  committed  to  jail  to 
morrow  011  charge  of  assault  with  intent  to  kill  ?  "  angrily 
demanded  Mr.  Lyon. 

."Oh,  Marse  Alick!  I'm  as  much  mortified  at  the  mis 
take  as  ever  I  can  be.  Indeed,  sir,  I  thought  it  was  horse 
thieves,  and  I  was  duty  bouiid-eii  to  'fend  the  hosses,  you 
know,  sir,"  pleaded  Leo. 

"  Umph ;  well,  you  must  be  more  careful  another  time, 
my  man.  Your  mistake  might  have  cost  you  your  neck, 
you  know7." 

"  'Deed,  sir,  I — if  I  had  been  so  misfortunate  as  to  hurt 
you  I  shouldn't  a  cared  that  for  my  neck !  I  should  a 
wanted  to  a'  hanged  myself  Vlout  waitiii'  for  the  judge  to 
do  it,"  said  the  boy,  so  earnestly  that  he  at  once  disarmed 
his  master. 

"Very  well,  I  dare  say  you  speak  truly.  And  now  let 
me  have  the  key  of  the  back  door ;  I  wish  to  get  in  the 
house  and  go  to  bed.  Your  mistress  has  sTmt  up  the  place 
and  retired.  I  suppose  she  has  given  up  all  thoughts  of 
seeing  me  to-night.  Where  is  the  key  ?  " 

"  Here  it  is,  sir ;  shall  I  go  on  to  the  house  with  you  ?  " 

"No,  there  is  no  need.  Oh,  by  the  way — was  not  that 
Pina's  voice  I  heard  speaking  to  you  ?  " 


266  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Yes,  sir. ' 

"  And  pray  how  comes  she  to  be  sleeping  down  here  in 
the  stable-loft,  when  she  should  be  in  the  house  with  her 
mistress  ?  And  now  I  think  of  it,  how  is  your  mistress  ?  " 

"  Ah,  purty  much  the  same  as  usual,  sir,"  said  Leo,  try 
ing  to  evade  the  '  previous  question.' 

"I  am  glai  to  hear  it.  But  about  Pina;  how  comes 
she  to  be  sleeping  here  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  you  see  there's  been  a  'larm  at  the  house ; 
and  Pina,  she  was  feared — " 

"  '  An  alarm  at  the  house  ?  '  What  sort  of  an  alarm  ?  " 
anxiously  inquired  Mr.  Lyon. 

"  Well,  sir,  if  you  will  please  to  let  me  walk  along  home 
with  you  I  could  tell  you  as  I  go  along." 

"  Come  then  and  be  quick." 

"  Oh  lor,  Brother  Leo,  ask  master  to  wait  for  me,  please. 
I  don't  dare  to  stay  here  all  alone  by  myself !  "  exclaimed 
Pina,  scuttling  down  from  the  loft  as  fast  as  she  could 
come. 

"  Hurry  then,  you  provoking  fool ;  and  mind,  I  have  an 
account  to  settle  with  you  when  you  come,"  said  Mr.  Lyon, 
as  he  stamped  his  feet  and  clapped  his  hands  to  keep  his 
almost  congealed  blood  in  circulation,  while  the  fierce  wind 
whirled  his  riding-coat  round  and  round. 

Meantime  Leo  quickly  took  down  his  own  overcoat  from, 
its  peg  in  the  coach-room,  and  put  it  on. 

"Now  then  !  How  dared  you  to  leave  your  mistress  and 
come  down  here  to  sleep,  eh  ?  "  angrily  demanded  Mr. 
Lyon,  as  Pina  came  to  the  side  of  her  brother. 

"  Please,  sir,  it  was  along  of  the  fright.  And  mistress 
said  I  might.  And  no  more  wasn't  she  angry  long  o'  me 
for  it,"  whimpered  the  girl. 

"  Your  kind  mistress  is  never  angry  with  an3Tbody  for 
anything,"  answered  Mr.  Lyon,  doing  justice  to  his 
neglected  young  wife,  o"i  this  occasion  at  least.  "And," 


A      MEMORABLE      NIGHT.  267 

he  added,  "  I  will  hear  what  she  has  to  say  about  the  mat 
ter  before  I  excuse  you.  And  now,  Leo,"  he  inquired, 
turning  to  the  boy,  "  what  about  this  alarm  at  the  house  ? 
I  hope  it  was  a  false  one.  Was  it  of  thieves  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I  don't  rightly  know  whether  it  was  a  false 
alarm  or  not,  nor  likewise  whether  it  was  thieves." 

"  Tell  me  all  you  know  of  it." 

"  If  you  please,  I  don't  know  anything  about  it  person 
ally  myself.  It  was  not  me  as  seen  the  face  at  the  window, 
in  the  dead  hour  of  the  night,  it  was  my  mistress." 

"  e  A  face  at  the  window  in  the  dead  of  night  ?  '  "  echoed 
Mr.  Lyon,  in  astonishment. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  night?" 

"  Last  night,  sir,  about  this  hour,  as  I  understand." 

"  Give  me  the  particulars." 

Leo  began  and  related  the  story,  as  he  had  received  it 
from  his  mistress. 

"  That  is  most  extraordinary  and  it  must  be  investigat 
ed,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  in  a  musing  and  anxious  manner,  as 
the  boy  finished  the  tale.  "  But,"  he  added,  turning 
sternly  to  the  two  servants,  "how  came  you,  you  cowardly 
brutes,  to  leave  your  young  mistress  alone  in  the  house  to 
night  after  such  an  alarm  ?  I  feel  inclined  to  part  with 
you  both." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  Leo,  "  I  begged  my  mistress  to  allow  me 
to  stay  in  the  house  to  keep  guard,  I  did,  indeed,  sir ;  but 
she  wouldn't  so  much  as  hear  of  it.  She  said  how  she 
wouldn't  interfere  long  of  your  arrangements,  sir ;  and  so 
she  ordered  me  to  go  back  to  the  stables  and  take  care  o' 
the  bosses." 

"And  indeed,  master,  indeed,  sir,"  put  in  Pina,  "I  did 
say  to  my  mist'ess  wasn't  her  safety  of  more  'count  than 
the  dumb  brutes;  but  she  wouldn't  hear  to  me,  no  rnore'r 
to  Br<  ther  Leo." 


268  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  And  so  she  sent  you  both  out  of  the  house  !  "  exjlainied 
Mr.  Lyon,  frowning  darkly. 

"  Indeed  she  did,  sir,"  answered  Pina. 

"  And  remained  in  it  alone  ?  )} 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Leo. 

"  Humph  !  "  growled  Mr.  Lyon,  and  his  anger  was  di 
verted  from  his  oft'ending  servants  to  his  neglected  wife. 
An  insane  suspicion  took  possession  of  him,  and  he  men 
tally  connected  the  mysterious  face  at  the  window,  with  the 
circumstance  of  Drusilla's  sending  her  servants  from  the 
house,  and  he  drew  an  inference  which  nothing  but  the 
madness  of  jealousy  could  have  inspired,  and  he  hurried  on 
at  a  pace  which  even  his  agile  young  servants  found  it  hard 
to  keep  up  with. 

They  went  around  to  the  back  door  and  opened  it,  and 
Mr.  Lyon,  calling  his  servants  to  follow  him  through  the 
house,  groped  his  way  along  the  dark  back  passages  to  the 
octagon  hall  and  up  the  stairs  to  his  wife's  chamber,  which 
was  dimly  lighted  by  a  night-taper  on  the  mantle-piece  and 
a  smouldering  fire  in  the  grate.  The  room  was  vacant  and 
evidently  had  not  beeen  occupied  since  the  morning. 

"Where  can  she  be?"  he  inquired,  and  in  an  accession 
of  anxiety  he  hurried  through  the  other  rooms  of  the 
upper  story  ;  but  found  them  all  empty. 

Then,  still  attended  by  his  servants,  he  went  below  stairs 
and  searched  the  library  and  the  bird  room.  But  neither 
Drusilla  nor  any  one  else  could  be  found. 

"  I  looked  into  the  drawing-room  before  I  entered  the 
house — looked  in  through  the  unshuttered  front  windows 
and  I  saw  that  no  one  was  in  there.  But  I  will  look  again,'7 
muttered  Mr.  Lyon,  in  extreme  astonishment  and  anxiety, 
as  he  passed  into  the  apartment  in  question. 

It  was  still  brilliantly  lighted  up  and  he  could  see  into 
every  corner  of  it ;  but  he  saw,  besides  the  usual  furniture, 
only  the  neatly  spread  little  supper  table ;  the  untasted 


A      MEMORABLE      NIGHT.  269 

supper   covered  up  on  the  hearth  ;  and  the  easy  chair  and 
slippers  near  the  blackened  fire  that  had  quite  gone  out. 

But  his  wife  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  in  the  room. 

"  This  is  most  inexplicable ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  con 
sternation,  as  he  turned  and  looked  at  his  servants,  who 
stood  near  him  aghast  with  terror.  "  At  what  hour  did 
your  mistress  dismiss  you  ?  " 

"  At  ten  o'clock,  sir  ;  but  we  didn't  go  out  of  the  house 
till  nearly  half-past,  as  it  took  us  some  little  time  to  rake 
out  the  kitchen  lire  and  fasten  up  the  place,"  answered  Leo, 
while  Pina  fell  to  sobbing. 

"  Stop  that  noise,  will  you,  and  follow  me.  I  will  search 
the  rooms  over  the  kitchen  ;  though  I  suppose  it  w  11  be 
quite  in  vain,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  grimly,  as  there  entered  his 
mind  the  cruel  suspicion  that  his  neglected  and  lonely 
young  wife  had  actually  left  her  home. 

They  searched  first  the  kitchen,  pantry  and  laundry,  on 
the  first  floor  of  the  back  building.  Then  they  went  up 
and  searched  the  servants'  rooms  on  the  second  floor.  But 
without  success. 

"  She  is  gone,"  said  Mr.  Lyon  to  himself,  as  he  led  the 
way  back  to  the  drawing-room.  And  in  the  strangely 
blended  emotions  of  astonishment  and  mortification,,  there 
was  also  a  delusive  feeling  of  satisi'action  and  hope.  If  she 
was  gone,  he  should  be  free.  Her  departure  was  his  deliv 
erance. 

As  he  re-entered  the  drawing-room,  still  attended  by  his 
servants,  he  saw  the  broad  morning  light  streaming  in  at 
the  front  windows.  He  ordered  Leo  to  take  away  the 
lamps  and  to  clear  out  the  grate  and  kindle  a  new  fire. 
And  he  directed  Pina  to  remove  the  supper  service  and  pre 
pare  his  breakfast;  for,  under  all  the  circumstances,  he  felt 
too  much  excited  to  think  of  lying  down  to  sleep. 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  while  his  servants 
quickly  executed  his  orders.  And  soon  every  vestige  of 


270  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

the  evening's  untasted  repast  and  extinguished  fire  was  re 
moved.  And  the  clean  hearth  and  glowing  grate  invited 
Alexander  to  repose  himself  in  his  easj^-chair. 

After  a  while  Pina  appeared  with  the  table  linen  in  her 
hand,  and  inquired,  respectfully  : 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  will  you  have  the  breakfast  laid  here, 
or  in  the  dining-room  ?  " 

"  In  the  dining-room,  of  course/'  answered  Mr.  Lyon. 

"  The  dining-room,"  as  the  reader  knows,  was  but  a  cozy, 
elegant,  little  recess,  curtained  oft'  from  the  drawing-room, 
and  only  large  enough  to  hold  a  small  table  and  two  chairs, 
for  the  young  couple's  tete-a-tete  dinners. 

As  Pina  now  drew  aside  the  crimson  curtain,  she  uttered 
a  wild  scream,  and  stood  transfixed  and  gazing  down  upon 
some  object  near  her  feet. 

Alexander  sprang  up  to  see  what  had  frightened  her  ;  but 
as  he  put  aside  the  curtain,  and  saw  what  was  under  it,  he 
started  back  with  an  irrepressible  cry  of  horror. 


CHAPTEE  XXVII 

A    GREAT    DISCOVERT. 

Oh.  fatal  opportunity  ! 

That  work'st  our  thoughts  into  desires,  desires 
To  resolutions  ;  and  these  being  ripe  and  ready, 

Then  giv'st  them  birth  and  brings't  them  forth  to  action. — DENHAM. 
The  means  that  fortune  yields  must  be  embraced 
And  not  iic.irlecti'.d  :  else  if  fortune  would, 
And  we  will  not,  her  otfers  we  refuse, 
And  miss  the  means  of  action  and  success. — SHAKSPEAKE. 

SHE  whom  they  had  sought  so  vainly,  lay  there,  doubled 
up,  on  the  floor,  and  partly  covered  by  the  dropping  folds 
of  the  curtain. 

"Oh,  master!  Oh,  sir!  She  is  dead!  She  is  mur 
dered  !  She  is,  indeed,  sir,  and  the  thieves  have  been  in  uad 


A     GREAT      DISCOVERY.  271 

done  it ! "  cried  Pina,  recovering  her  voice  and  wringing 
her  hands  in  grief  and  terror. 

And  her  dreadful  words  seemed  to  be  true. 

Mr.  Lyon  could  not  speak.  He  silently  lifted  the  life 
less  form,  and  shuddering  to  see  how  helplessly  the  head 
and  limbs  fell  over  his  arms,  he  bore  it  into  the  drawing- 
room,  and  laid  it  on  the  sofa. 

Pina  followed  him,  and  stood  sobbing  and  wringing  her 
hands. 

He  knelt  down  by  the  body  and  gazed  on  the  marble 
face,  the  half-open  63-68,  and  the  rigid  lips  drawn  tightly 
from  the  white  and  glistening  teeth. 

He  hastily  unfastened  the  front  of  her  dress,  and  put  his 
hand  in  her  bosom  to  feel  if  her  heart  yet  beat.  It  seemed 
still. 

He  put  his  ear  down  to  listen  if  her  lungs  yet  moved. 
They  were  motionless. 

He  felt  her  hands  and  feet.     They  were  cold  and  stiff. 

Then  he  arose  and  stood  gazing  upon  the  body. 

"  Oh,  is  she  dead  ?  Is  you  sure  ?  "  inquired  Pina,  with 
tears  streaming  down  her  face. 

"  Yes.  She  seems  to  have  been  dead  some  hours  5 " 
groaned  Alexander,  with  his  own  face  as  white  as  that  of 
the  lifeless  form  before  him. 

"  Oh,  master  !  Oh,  sir  !  The  thieves  broke  in  and  done 
it,  didn't  they  ?  Didn't  they  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  speaking  slowly  and 
softly.  "  There  is  no  evidence  of  the  late  presence  of 
thieves  in  the  house.  Nothing  as  yet  is  missing.  And 
there  is  no  sign  of  blood  upon  her  clothing." 

"Oh,  master,  but  her  dress  is  black,  and  wouldn't 
show  it  plain." 

Alexander  knew  this  to  be  true,  and  he  also  knew  that 
some  wounds  bleed  only  inwardly.  So  he  began  to  examine 
her  body.  First  he  unloosed  her  beautiful  hair,  and  ran  his 


272  THE      CHANGED      BKIDES. 

fingers  through  its  tresses,  and  felt  all  over  her  head.  But 
apparently  she  had  received  no  sort  of  injury  there. 

While  he  was  proceeding  with  this  inspection,  Pina  sud 
denly  started  up  and  ran  out  of  the  room. 

He  made  a  most  careful  examination.,  but  found  no  mark 
of  violence  upon  her  person. 

And  yet  he  thought  she  must  have  come  to  her  death 
suddenly  and  violently ;  since  she  had  been  alive  and  in 
her  usual  health  between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock  on  the  pre 
ceding  evening,  and  now  was  dead,  and  apparently  had  been 
so  for  several  hours. 

He  had  scarcely  finished  his  examination,  when  Pina 
rushed  back  into  the  room,  holding  a  fragment  of  looking- 
glass  in  her  hand,  and  exclaiming  eagerly  : 

"  Try  this !  Oh,  dear  master,  try  this  !  Lay  it  to  her 
lips  and  hold  it  there  a  minute  or  so,  and  if  there's  any 
moisture  on  it,  it  is  a  sign  that  there's  a  little  life  left,  and 
where  there's  life,  you  know,  if  there's  ever  so  little,  there's 
hope." 

Mr.  Lyon  silently  took  the  piece  of  glass,  and  laid  it  flat 
with  the  bright  side  to  the  cold  lips,  and  stood  watching 
the  result. 

"  Oh,  sir,  I'm  glad  I  happened  to  think  of  it !  I  know'd 
a  woman,  I  did,  who  fell  down  into  a  fit,  and  lay  for  dead 
all  day  long  ;  for  her  breath  had  stopped,  and  her  heart 
had  stopped,  and  she  was  cold  and  stiff;  and  they  were 
going  to  lay  her  out,  when  somebody  said  '  try  a  glass,'  and 
so  they  tried  it,  and  sure  enough,  after  they  held  it  over  her 
lips  a  little  while,  there  was  a  moisture  on  it,  and  so  they 
knew  she  still  breathed  ever  so  little,  though  they  couldn't 
perceive  it  in  any  other  way  but  by  the  glass — and  so — " 

"  Hush,  stop,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  interrupting  the  garrulous 
girl,  and  examining  the  glass. 

There  was  a  dimness  on  its  bright  surface. 

"  You  are  right.  Life  is  not  yet  quite  extinct.  She  still 
breathes  slightly.'7 


A     GREAT      DISCOVERY.  273 

"  Oh,  sir,  I'm  so  glad  !     I  feel  as  glad  as  if — " 

"  Hurry  and  make  a  fire  in  her  bed-chamber,  while  I 
carry  her  up  stairs,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  again  interrupting  the 
stream  of  the  girl's  talk. 

Pina  flew  down  stairs  to  get  kindling-wood,  and  to  startle 
her  brother  with  the  news  that  their  mistress  had  been 
found  in  a  fainting  fit  so  deep  that  she  seemed  dead,  or 
dying,  at  the  last  gasp,  and  it  was  doubtful  whether  she 
would  ever  come  out  of  it. 

Meanwhile,  Alexander  lifted  the  insensible  form  and  car 
ried  it  up  stairs,  to  the  bed-chamber,  and  laid  it  on  the  bed. 

Pina  soon  came  in  with  the  kindling  wood  and  rapidly 
revived  the  fire  that  had  not  yet  gone  out. 

Then,  while  her  master  ran  down  stairs  and  searched  for 
restoratives,  she  undressed  her  mistress  and  put  her  between 
soft,  warm  blankets,  in  the  bed,  and  began  to  rub  her  hands 
and  feet  in  the  hope  of  restoring  the  arrested  circulation. 

Mr.  Lyon  returned  with  brandy  and  ammonia,  and  then 
master  and  maid  used  the  most  vigorous  means  for  recover 
ing  the  unconscious  sufferer. 

For  nearly  two  hours  they  worked  over  her ;  but  their 
efforts  seemed  utterly  unavailing. 

At  length  when  -they  were  almost  ready  to  give  over  in 
despair,  Alexander  perceived  a  slight  fluttering  near  the 
heart  of  his  wife.  With  revived  hope,  he  redoubled  his 
efforts  and  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  further  signs 
of  returning  life.  Her  chest  labored  and  heaved ;  her  lips 
trembled  and  parted  ;  and  then  she  gasped  and  opened  her 
eyes. 

"Drusa,  Drusa,  my  darling,  do  you  know  me?"  he  in 
quired,  looking  anxiously  in  her  face. 

But  she  only  gazed  at  him,  with  wide  open,  soft  inexpres 
sive  eyes,  without  replying. 

He  hastily  mixed  a  little  ammonia  and  water  and  raised  her 
17 


274  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

head  and  put  the  cordial  to  her  lips.  She  drank  it  mechan 
ically;  but  it  immediately  revived  her. 

"  Drusa,  my  little  Drusa,  do  you  know  me  now  ?  "  he  in 
quired,  setting  the  glass  aside  and  heuding  over  her. 

She  looked  at  him  with  infinite  love,  put  her  arms  up 
around  his  neck,  drew  his  head  down  to  hers  and  kissed  him 
tenderly. 

He  returned  her  soft  caresses,  for  while  he  gazed  on  her 
sweet,  patient,  loving  face,  and  reflected  that  she  was  just 
rescued,  as  it  were,  from  the  jaws  of  deatft,  he  felt  all  his 
compassion,  if  not  his  affection  for  her,  revived. 

"  What  caused  your  swoon,  my  little  Drusa  ? "  he  in 
quired. 

But  a  spasm  of  pain,  or  fear,  passed  over  her  face  and 
form,  and  she  shuddered  and  closed  her  eyes. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir.,  but  if  I  was  you,  I  wouldn't  ask 
no  questions  yet,"  said  Pina  in  a  low  respectful  voice. 

"You  are  right  again,"  he  answered. 

And  he  contented  himself  with  sitting  by  his  wife's  bed 
and  holding  her  hand,  and  occasionally  bending  down  and 
kissing  her  forehead. 

"  If  you  please  sir,  to  let  me  go  down  and  bring  my 
mistress  up  a  cup  of  strong  tea  and  a  bit  of  dry  toast,  I 
think  if  she  could  be  got  to  take  it,  it  would  do  her  good," 
said  Pina. 

"  Go  then,"  replied  Mr.  Lyon. 

And  as  the  girl  left  the  room,  he  stooped  and  whispered 
to  his  wife. 

"  I  hope  you  are  better,  love." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  I  will  not  try  your  strength  with  questions,  now  ;  but  as 
soon  as  you  are  able,  you  will  tell  me  what  caused  your  deep 
swoon." 

She  drew  his  head  down  to  hers  and  answered  in  a  low, 
faint  voice : 


A     GREAT     DISCOVERY.  275 

"  It  was  the  face  at  the  window" 

"  The  face  at  the  window  !  again  last  night." 

She  nodded ;  and  her  lips  grew  so  white  and  her  eyes  so 
wild  with  terror,  that  he  hastened  to  soothe  her. 

"  There,  there  is  no  danger  now,  my  little  Drusa  !  I  am 
here  by  your  side.  Compose  yourself  for  the  present,  and 
when  you  have  quite  recovered  you  shall  tell  me  all  about 
it,  and  the  affair  shall  be  investigated." 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  her  brow  j  and  she  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  closed  her  eyes. 

Presently  Pina  came  in  with  a  little  tray  upon  which 
stood  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  small  piece  of  dried  toast. 

At  Alexander's  entreaty  and  with  his  assistance, 
Brasilia  sat  up  and  drank  the  tea  and  ate  the  toast,  and 
then  sank  back  upon  her  pillow  and  after  a  while,  with  her 
hand  in  his,  fell  into  a  natural  and  refreshing  sleep. 

Alexander  still  watched  her  for  five  or  ten  minutes 
longer,  and  then  after  glancing  up  at  the  time-piece  on 
the  mantle  shelf  and  seeing  that  it  was  nearly  eleven 
o'clock  he  slipped  his  hand  from  hers,  told  Pina  to  take 
his  place  by  the  bed-side,  and  then  left  the  chamber. 

He  went  down  stairs  into  the  drawing-room  and  rang 
the  bell. 

Leo  answered  it. 

"  Serve  my  breakfast  immediately  and  then  go  and 
saddle  my  horse  and  bring  him  around  to  the  door,"  were 
-Mr.  Lyon's  directions. 

Leo,  much  wondering  that  his  master  should  leave  his 
mistress  at  such  a  time,  went  out  of  the  room  to  obey  his 
orders. 

Breakfast  was  soon  served.  Alexander  dispatched  it  in 
haste,  and  then  went  up  stairs  to  change  his  dress  for  his 
ride  into  town. 

When  he  found  himself  alone  in  his  dressing-room,  all 
the  embarrassments  of  his  false  position — forgotten  during 


276  THE      CHANGED     BK1DES. 

the  exciting  events  that  had  followed  his  late  arrival  at 
home — were  now  recalled  to  mind. 

In  an  hour  or  two  he  should  meet  his  uncle  and  his 
cousin.  The  former  would  expect  that  he  should  make  his 
proposal  for  immediate  marriage  with  Anna,  and  the  latter 
would  be  ready  to  meet  it. 

He  might  either  make  the  anticipated  proposal  or  omit 
to  do  it. 

If  he  should  make  it,  and  his  cousin  should  meet  it 
favorably,  the  embarrassments  of  his  position  would  be 
multiplied  a  thousand  fold,  for  certainly  he  could  not  marry 
two  wives ;  neither  could  he,  after  having  committed  him 
self  by  his  proposal,  confess  his  prior  marriage. 

If  he  should  omit  to  make  the  proposal  at  all,  such 
omission  would  subject  him  to  suspicion  and  "severe  cross- 
examination  by  his  uncle  and  the  grandfather  of  his 
betrothed. 

His  first  hope,  then,  was  in  being  able  to  evade  the 
dilemma  by  procrastination  ;  and  his  second  hope  was  that 
Anna  herself  might  take  the  responsibility  of  insisting 
upon  a  further  delay  of  the  wedding. 

As  for  his  secret  marriage  with  Drusilla,  he  was  now 
resolved,  come  what  might,  that  he  would  never  reveal  it ; 
because  he  felt  sure,  if  he  should  do  so,  that  his  uncle  and 
cousin  would  both  discard  him,  and  she  would  become  the 
wife  of  his  rival. 

But  even  in  the  midst  of  these  evil  thoughts,  he  started 
as  an  absent-minded  walker  might  at  seeing  himself  on 
the  brink  of  a  dreadful  precipice, — yes,  started  with  a  sud 
den  consciousness  of  what  a  villain  he  was  growing  to  be — 
he  who  up  to  this  time  had  been  a  man  of  stainless  honor. 

While  agitated  by  these  emotions,  he  was  mechanically 
dressing  himself.  He  went  to  his  wardrobe  to  search  for  a 
thick  coat,  for  the  morning  was  still  bittterly  cold,  and  the 
overcoat  that  he  had  worn  on  the  previous  day  and  night 
had  received  some  damage  from  Leo's  frantic  pistol  shots. 


A     GREAT     DISCOVERY.  277 

He  took  down  coat  after  coat,  but  they  were  all  too  thin. 

At  length,  far  back  in  the  wardrobe,  he  found  one  that 
he  had  not  worn  for  many  months.  It  belonged  to  the 
travelling  suit  that  he  had  worn  when  he  went  to  Alexan 
dria  to  meet  Drusilla  and  went  to  the  parson  to  marry  her. 

With  feelings  of  sadness,  regret  and  compunction,  he 
turned  the  garment  about  and  looked  at  it.  Then  he  care 
fully  brushed  it  and  put  it  on,  buttoned  it  closely,  and 
thrust  both  hands  in  his  pockets  to  push  them  down.  In 
doing  so,  he  felt  a  folded  paper.  And  in  listless  curiosity 
he  took  it  out,  opened  it,  and  looked  at  it. 

In  an  instant  all  his  listlessness  vanished.  He  held  it 
from  him,  and  gazed,  and  gazed  at  it  with  his  eyes  dilating, 
his  lips  parting,  and  his  face  blanching  with  what  would 
have  seemed  at  first  view  to  be  amazement  and  horror,  but 
which  soon  proved  to  be  delight  and  triumph. 

He  could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of  his  senses.  He 
suspected  that  he  was  dreaming.  He  pinched  himself  to 
prove  that  he  was  awake. 

Then  he  suddenly  dropped  into  a  chair,  waved  the  paper 
above  his  head,  and  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  I  had  been  the  most  consummate 
schemer  that  ever  lived,  I  could  not  have  plotted  for  myself 
better  than  fortune  has  planned  for  me.  Now,  then,  Mr. 
Richard  Hammond  !  Let  us  see  now  what  are  your  pros 
pects  of  ultimately  winning  the  beauty  and  the  heiress  ! 
But  little  Drusa !  poor  little  Drusa!  patient,  loving  little 
Drusa !  Thank  fortune  that  you  neither  know  nor  suspect 
anything  of  this  matter!  And  you  must  neither  know  nor 
suspect  it  yet  awhile  !  For  the  knowledge,  or  even  the 
very  suspicion  of  this,  would  go  near  to  kill  you.  Very, 
very  gradually  must  you  be  prepared  for  it,  my  darling ; 
very,  very  gently  must  the  truth  be  broken  to  you,  my  poor 
little  girl ! " 

He   felt   now    no    embarrassment    as   to   his    relations, 


278  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

present  or  prospective,  with  his  betrothed  and  her  grand 
father.  He  was  ready  to  propose  to  Anna  the  next  day, 
and  to  marry  her  in  a  month  after,  if  expedient. 

For  the  paper  that  he  had  found  in  the  pocket  of  his 
wedding  coat,  and  now  held  in  his  hand,  proved,  beyond 
the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  that  his  marriage  with  poor 
Drusilla  was  informal,  null  and  void ;  that  it  had  always 
been  so,  and  that  he  was  legally  free  to  love  and  to  wed 
whomsoever  he  should  please. 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII. 

HIS    LOVE. 

His  is  the  love  that  only  lives, 

While  the  cheek  is  fresh  and  red; 
His  is  the  love  that  only  thrives, 

Where  the  pleasure  feast  ia  spread. — ELIZA  COOK, 

ALTHOUGH  that  little  paper  furnished  a  proof  that 
Alexander  Lyon  was  as  free  from  marriage-bonds  as  he 
wished  to  be,  yet  it  would  have  been  better  for  his  own  pur 
pose  for  him  to  have  burned  it  at  once. 

But  with  that  strange  unwillingness  which  some  people 
feel  to  destroy  even  a  dangerous  document,  he  carefully 
folded  it  up  and  put  it  into  his  little  looking-glass 
drawer. 

Then  he  went  into  the  next  chamber  and  spoke  to  Pina, 
who  was  still  watching  by  her  mistress's  bed. 

"  Has  she  moved  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  she  sleeps  very  sound,"  answered  the  girl. 

"  That  is  well.  Keep  her  very  still.  Keep  the  room 
dark  and  quiet.  Do  not  leave  her  until  my  return.  If 
she  should  wake  in  the  meantime,  tell  her  that  I  was  com 
pelled  to  ride  into  town  this  morning ;  but  that  I  shall  be 
back  early.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 


HISLOVE. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  I  will  be  very  careful  to  do  as  you  say." 

Alexander  then  drew  on  his  gloves  and  left  the  room. 
When  he  got  down  stairs  he  repeated  to  Leo  his  orders,  that 
the  house  should  be  kept  very  quiet.  Then  he  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  rapidly  towards  the  city.  He  was  an  hour 
behind  his  usual  time,  and  it  was  noon  when  he  reached  his 
room  at  the  hotel.  He  was  glad  to  find  out  b}'  inquiry  that 
no  one  had  called  that  morning  to  see  him.  So  he  went 
down  stairs  to  call  a  cab,  to  take  him  to  his  uncle's  lodgings. 
He  found  the  hotel  halls,  as  well  as  the  city  streets,  full  of 
bustle.  Yesterday  had  been  the  last  day  of  the  session  of 
Congress,  and  to-day  there  was  a  general  evacuation  of  the 
cit}T,  by  members  of  the  house  and  senate,  and  by  the  troops 
of  friends  and  strangers  that  attend  or  follow  them  to  and 
from  Washington. 

Alick  found  it  hard  to  get  an  empty  cab,  so  he  hailed  an 
omnibus,  and  rode  on  as  far  as  it  would  take  him  to  his 
uncle's  lodgings,  and  then  got  out  and  walked  the  rest  of 
the  way. 

The  general  had  just  left  his  bed-room  ;  but  he  received 
his  visitor  very  cordially. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Alick,  these  fashionable  hours  don't 
suit  an  old-fashioned  fellow  like  myself.  And  I  am  heartily 
glad  the  season  is  over.  As  soon  as  Anna  comes  down  I 
shall  tell  her  to  give  orders  to  pack  up  ;  for  we  shall  leave  in 
a  day  or  two — -just  as  soon  as  the  great  crush  of  travellers 
shall  thin  off,  so  that  the  steamboats  and  the  railway  trains 
will  not  be  so  overcrowded.  By  the  way,  I  hope  you  made 
it  all  right  with  Anna  last  night  ?  " 

"  Please  to  recollect,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  could  not  possi 
bly  get  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  her  in  private.  But 
I  shall  make  one  to-da}*." 

"  All  right,  my  dear  boy,  and  I  will  help  you.  And  I 
hope  you  will  make  up  your  mind  to  leave  this  babel  when 
we  do.  What  is  to  prevent  you,  eh  ?  You  might  go  back 
with  us  to  the  old  hall." 


280  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  I  should  be  very  happy  to  do  so,  sir  ;  and  if  I  can  make 
arrangements " 

"  Oh,  bosh  about  arrangements !  What  arrangements 
can  an  idle  young  man  like  you  have  to  make  ?  None  that 
could  not  be  made  in  twenty-four  hours.  And  we  shall  not 
leave  for  at  least  forty-eight." 

"  I  will  try  to  be  ready,  sir." 

As  Alick  spoke,  Anna  came  in. 

She  wore  an  elegant  morning  robe  of  white  cachemere 
lined  and  faced  with  quilted  white  satin,  and  trimmed  with 
black  velvet  and  jet,  and  fastened  around  the  waist  with  a 
black  silk  cord  and  tassels.  She  seemed  no  worse  for  her 
long  season  of  fashionable  dissipation,  but  looked  stately, 
blooming  and  beautiful  as  ever. 

Alexander  arose  and  greeted  her  with  more  than  usual 
empressement,  and  led  her  to  a  seat. 

The  breakfast  was  served.  And  the  general  telling  Alex 
ander  that  it  would  do  quite  as  well  for  a  luncheon,  invited 
him  to  sit  down  to  the  table. 

While  lingering  over  the  late  morning  meal,  they  talked 
of  the  just  closed  session  of  Congress  and  season  of  fashion, 
and  the  general  again  pressed  Alick  to  join  his  party  at  old 
Lyon  Hall.  And  in  the  presence  of  his  beautiful  betrothed, 
Alick  could  neither  refuse  nor  hesitate  to  accept  the  invita 
tion.  So  he  gave  his  promise  to  accompany  his  uncle  and 
cousin  to  their  home. 

After  the  breakfast  was  finished,  and  the  service  was  re 
moved,  the  general  arose,  saying  that  he  would  go  down  into 
the  reading-room  and  look  over  the  morning  papers,  he  left 
the  parlor. 

Alexander  and  Anna  were  alone. 

"  At  last,  then,  I  have  the  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
you,  that  I  have  so  long  desired,"  whispered  Alick,  as  he 
went  and  took  a  seat  on  the  sofa,  by  the  side  of  his 
betrothed. 


HIS      LOVE.  281 

She  received  him  very  quietly,  if  not  coldly. 

He  then  went  on  to  lament  the  repeated  interruptions 
that  had  so  long  delayed  their  union,  and  to  press  her  to 
name  an  early  day  for  the  wedding. 

"  Your  great  haste  is  of  very  late  date,  Alick.  I  saw  no 
signs  of  such  impatience,  until  within  the  last  few  weeks," 
she  answered  coolly. 

He  gave  her  a  deprecating  look,  and  pleaded : 

"  My  love  was  chilled  and  my  pride  was  hurt  by  your 
marked  preference  for  my  rival." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Anna,  quickly.  "  Let  poor  Dick  alone. 
He  is  honest,  if  he  is  wild.  I  have  sent  him  away.  Let 
him  go  in  peace." 

"  Just  so !  Let  him  go.  But  you  will  grant  my 
request  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  break  off  our  engagement,  Alick.  I 
will  not  be  the  first  woman  of  my  race  to  break  my  pledged 
word.  I  will  give  you  my  promised  hand  ;  but  not  as  soon 
as  you  ask.  Let  the  year  of  mourning  end  first." 

"  That  will  be  in  November." 

"  Yes  ;  you  must  wait  until  then." 

Alexander  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  got  up  and  walked 
the  room,  and  looked  a  great  deal  more  disappointed  than 
he  felt. 

In  truth — now  he  knew  that  his  hand  was  free  from  legal 
fetters  to  Drusilla,  he  felt  that  his  heart  was  more  bound  to 
her  by  affection  than  he  had  lately  believed.  And  now  his 
hated  rival  was  out  of  his  wajr,  he  found  that  he  was  not 
half  so  much  in  love  with  his  beautiful  cousin  as  he  had 
imagined. 

And  so  he  really  had  no  more  desire  to  hurry  the  wedding 
than  had  Anna  herself. 

He  wanted  more  time  to  break  with  her  whom  he  had  so 
long  taken  for  his  wife.  And  as  he  walked  up  and  down 
the  floor,  he  was  thinking  most  of  her. 


282  THE      CHANGED      B  HIDES. 

"  Poor  little  Drusa,"  he  thought.  "  Good  little  Drusa, 
from  this  hour  she  must  be  to  me,  only  as  a  dear  little  sis 
ter.  But  our  parting  must  not  be  abrupt.  Such  a  shock 
would  be  her  death-blow,  poor  child  !  Little  by  little  I 
must  leave  her.  This  trip  to  the  old  hall  will  be  a  good 
start.  She  need  not  know  where  or  why  I  go.  I  can  tell 
her  that  this  business  connected  with  my  father's  will,  takes 
n>e  into  Virginia  for  a  while — and  this  will  be  true,  so  far 
as  it  goes.  After  a  few  weeks  I  will  return  to  her,  but 
only  as  a  brother,  and  will  stay  with  her  but  a  few  days. 
And  then  the  second  absence  shall  be  longer  than  the  first, 
and  the  second  return  to  her,  shorter.  And  so,  gently,  most 
gently  will  I  loose  the  tie  that  binds  "her  to  me,  so  that 
when  the  final  parting  conies,  she  shall  scarcely  feel  it." 

So,  as  falsely  as  wickedly,  he  reasoned.  For  it  would 
have  been  more  merciful  to  have  broken  with  her  at  once 
than  to  leave  her  by  degrees.  Much  kinder  would  be  the 
quick,  sharp  death-blow  that  should  end  her  woe  instantly, 
than  the  slow,  cruel  torture  that  would  as  surely  if  not  as 
swiftly  destroy  her  life. 

Something  of  this  truth  seemed  to  strike  his  mind.  He 
groaned  slightly.  Then  he  began  to  comfort  his  con 
science. 

"  I  will  provide  for  her,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  will  buy 
that  little  estate  for  her.  She  can  live  there  as  a  young 

widow.  She  can Oh,  great  Heaven,  what  a  villian  I 

am  growing  to  be  !  But  I  cannot  help  it.  I  cannot  re 
marry  Drusilla  because  I  am  bound  to  Anna,  and  have  been 
bound  to  her  for  many  years.  So  I  cannot  but  do  as  I  do. 
I  wonder  if  murderers  can  help  killing,  or  thieves  stealing  ? 
Or  if  really  I  can  help  being  the  wretch  I  am  ?  "  And  as 
he  mentally  asked  himself  this  question  his  face  grew  so 
dark  with  pain  and  remorse,  that  Anna,  who  had  been 
watching  him  and  who  quite  mistook  his  mood,  laughed  and 
said : 


HIS     LOVE.  283 

"  Why,  Alick,  one  would  really  think,  to  see  you,  that 
you  take  this  matter  to  heart." 

"  I  take  the  matter  to  heart  much  more  than  you  believe, 
Anna,"  he  answered,  speaking,  as  had  been  his  frequent 
manner  of  late,  true  in  the  letter  and  false  in  the  spirit  of 
his  reply.  Then  lest  his  supposed  disappointment  should 
cause  her  to  relent  and  to  fix  an  earlier  day  for  their  mar 
riage  than  would  quite  be  convenient  for  him,  he  hastened 
to  add  :  "  But  let  it  be  as  you  will,  fair  cousin.  I  will  wait 
with  what  patience  I  may  until  November." 

Anna  pouted,  for  although  she  was  in  no  haste  to  marry 
she  felt  affronted  that  Alick  should  yield  the  point  so 
readily. 

Alick  staid  and  dined  with  his  uncle  and  cousin  that  day. 
And  after  dinner  he  would  have  taken  leave  to  go  home, 
but  his  uncle  stopped  him,  saying : 

"No,  indeed,  my  boy.  This  is  the  first  evening  since  we 
have  been  in  Washington  that  I  have  had  you  all  to  my 
self,  and  I  mean  to  have  the  good  of  you.  Every  other 
evening  you  have  had  to  dance  attendance  on  Anna  to  some 
place  of  amusement.  There  is  no  place  to  go  to  this  even 
ing,  thank  Heaven.  And  Anna  is  tired -and  is  going  to 
rest,  so  you  just  sit  down  and  play  a  game  of  chess  with  me. 
Come,  I  will  let  you  off  at  ten  o'clock,  but  not  a  moment 
before." 

So  Alexander  sat  down  to  the  chess-board  with  his  uncle 
and  played  until  ten  o'clock  j  and  then  bade  him  good 
night,  and  started  for  home. 


284  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

HER    LOVE. 

„ 

Hers  is  the  love  which  keeps 

A  constant  watch-fire  light, 
"With  a  flame  that  never  sleeps 

Through  the  longest  winter  night.*— ELIZA  COOK. 

MEANWHILE,  Drusilla  slept  long  and  deeply,  like  one 
much  worn  in  mind  and  body.  It  was  afternoon  when  she 
opened  her  eyes.  She  saw  Pina  sitting  by  her  side.  At 
first,  she  thought  it  waa  yet  early  in  the  morning,  and  that 
she  had  awakened  at  her  usual  hour,  and  she  wondered  why 
her  maid  should  be  watching  by  her  bed  ;  but  in  another 
moment,  memory  returned  and  reminded  her  of  all  the 
events  of  the  day.  And  she  thought  of  Alexander's  loving 
kindness  to  her,  and  she  smiled  with  delight.  Then  she 
asked : 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Lyon  ?  " 

"He  is  gone  to  town,  ma'am,"  answered  Pina. 

The  little  lady's  face  fell.  It's  gladness  was  all  gone  in 
an  instant. 

"  Gone  to  town  again,  Pina  ? "  she  repeated  in  a  sad 
tone. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  which  he  told  me  to  tell  you,  as  he  was 
unwillin'  compelled  for  to  go,  and  which  he  would  be  sure 
to  come  back  very  early,"  said  the  girl,  in  her  good  nature; 
adding  a  little  to  her  master's  message. 

"  Oh  !  did  he  say  that,  Pina  ?  Did  he  say  he  would 
come  back  very  early?  Are  you  sure,  Pina  ?"  And  the 
little  face  brightened  up  again. 

"Sure  as  sure,  ma'am  ;  which  (  very  early '  was  his  very 
words,"  said  Pina,  telling  a  little  white  lie. 

"  What  time  is  it  now  ?  " 

"  Near  five,  ma'am." 


HER      LOVE.  285 

"  Then  he  will  soon  be  here,"  she  said.  And  strength 
ened  by  this  hope,  she  threw  off  the  counterpane,  and  got 
out  of  bed. 

With  the  help  of  her  maid  she  dressed  herself  as  care 
fully  to  please  her  husband's  taste,  as  a  maiden  might  to 
attract  a  lover's  eyes. 

Then  she  went  down  stairs  to  see  if  the  drawing-room 
was  made  comfortable  for  the  evening.  She  found  that 
Leo  had  done  his  duty  in  the  matter.  The  fire  in  the 
grate  was  burning  brightly ;  the  hearth  was  shining 
clearly  ;  the  deep  sofa  was  drawn  up  on  one  side  of  the 
chimney,  and  the  easy  chair  on  the  other,  and  the  round- 
table  was  placed  between  them.  The  front  blinds  were 
left  as  usual  unclosed  until  the  master's  return;  but  the 
crimson  curtains  were  drawn  before  the  windows.  The 
chandelier  was  lighted,  and  its  rays  were  reflected  back 
by  the  pictured  walls,  the  gilded  mirrors  and  the  glowing 
draperies  of  the  room,  so  that  the  little  retreat  looked  very 
cozy  and  home-like. 

"  Yes,  this  is  all  very  well ;  but  there  are  no  flowers/7 
said  this  loving  little  wife  ;  (for  wife  we  must  call  her,  not 
withstanding  Mr.  Alick's  discovery  ;)  and  she  went  into 
her  small  conservatory  and  cut  a  few  fragrant  tea  roses  and 
lemon  geraniums,  and  arranged  them  in  a  beautiful  group, 
and  placed  them  in  a  vase,  and  set  them  on  the  round 
table. 

And  then  she  opened  her  piano  and  selected  from  her 
music  some  of  her  husband's  favorite  pieces,  and  laid  them 
in  readiness. 

"  He  is  so  fond  of  music,  and  he  likes  my  voice  and 
touch,  and  yet  he  so  seldom  hears  me  sing  or  play  now. 
Perhaps  he  will  to-night,  though,"  she  said,  as  she  sat 
down  to  try  the  tone  of  her  long  neglected  instrument. 

She  had  taken  no  food  since  morning,  for  in  fact,  her 
long  sleep  had  kept  her  from,  feeling  the  want  of  it;  but 


286  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

soon  she  felt  faint  from  hunger,  and  she  got  up  to  ring  the 
bell  for  a  cup  of  tea. 

But  Pina,  who  had  not  forgotten  her  mistress's  needs, 
was  even  now  on  her  way  to  the  drawing-room  with  the 
tea-tray. 

She  brought  it  in  and  sat  it  down  on  the  table,  and  stood 
waiting  orders. 

"  Did  your  master  say  he  would  be  home  to  dinner, 
Pina?  "  the  little  lady  asked. 

"  ~No,  ma'am  ;  he  said  /  very  early  J  to  me.  And  when 
Leo  asked  him  if  dinner  should  be  prepared  for  him,  he 
said  'no/  and  that  he  should  'be  home  to  an  early  tea/" 
the  girl  replied. 

"  Then,  here  ;  I  will  only  take  half  a  cup  of  that  oolong 
and  half  a  biscuit  to  keep  me  up  till  he  comes,  for  I  wish 
to  take  tea  with  him  this  evening,"  said  the  little  wife,  as 
she  hastily  took  the  bit  arid  sup  she  spoke  of. 

"  Now,  take  this  down,  Pina  ;  and  listen,"  she  added,  as 
she  pushed  away  the  tray.  "Have  a  very  nice  tea  got 
ready — the  oolong  and  the  imperial,  mixed  half  and  half  as 
he  likes  it ;  and  make  some  sweet  muffins  ;  and  slice  that 
venison  tongue  ;  and  open  those  We'st  India  sweetmeats, 
especially  the  preserved  green  figs  and  the  pineapples.  Do 
you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  And  will  you  remember  all  ?  " 

tl  Yes,  madam,  I  will  be  sure  to." 

Pina  left  the  room,  and  her  mistress  resumed  her  prac 
tising. 

She  went  over  all  his  favorite  pieces  in  turn,  stopping  at 
the  end  of  each  to  go  to  the  window,  and  watch  and  listen. 

But  hour  after  hour  passed  by,  and  still  he  for  whom  she 
looked  came  not.  As  night  deepened,  her  spirits  sank. 

"Perhaps  he  wrill  not  come  at  all,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh. 
"  Something  keeps  him  that  he  cannot  help,"  she  added,  in 
excuse  for  him. 


HER      LOVE.  287 

When  the  clock  struck  ten  she  could  hardly  keep  back 
her  tears. 

"  He  will  not  he  home  until  very  late,  even  if  he  comes 
to-night,"  she  said,  with  a  deep  sob,  as  she  closed  the  piano 
and  sat  down  by  the  fire. 

She  waited  then  for  her  servants  to  come  as  usual  for 
orders,  before  bidding  her  good-night.  Then,  as  they  did 
not  appear,  she  rang  for  them. 

And  when  Pina  entered,  her  mistress  said : 

"  It  is  long  past  your  bed  time." 

"  I  know  it,  madam ;  but  master,  he  gave  us  such  a 
rowing  for  leaving  you  alone  last  night,  after  you  had  been 
frightened  the  night  before,  that  Leo  and  me,  we  daren't 
go.  We'll  sit  in  the  kitchen,  if  you  please,  ma'am,  or  wait 
in  the  hall,  as  you  order,  until  the  master  returns." 

"  He  may  not  be  able  to  get  home  to-night." 

"  Then,  please,  ma'am,  we'll  have  to  sit  up  and  watch,  or 
sleep  anywhere  in  the  house  as  you'll  appoint." 

Drusilla  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  said : 

"  You  may  sit  up  in  the  kitchen  for  an  hour  longer,  and 
then  come  to  me  for  orders." 

The  girl  left  the  room,  and  her  mistress  sank  back  in  her 
resting-chair,  repeating  to  herself, 

"  He  knows  that  I  am  ill  and  nervous,  and  almost  unpro 
tected  here  ;  arid  he  left  me  word  he  would  be  back  early. 
Oh,  surely  he  will  keep  his  promise,  in  part,  at  least,  by 
coming  back  some  time  to-night.  He  will  if  he  can  !  I 
am  sure  he  will,  if  he  can ! "  she  added,  confidingly. 

But  as  the  next  hour  wore  slowly  on,  her  long  tried  cour 
age  utterly  broke  down,  and  she  bowed  her  head  upon  the 
table  and  wept  bitterly. 

The  clock  was  striking  eleven,  when  two  sounds  from 
opposite  ways  struck  her  ear.  One  was  the  galloping  of  a 
horse's  feet  coming  to  the  house.  The  other  was  the  run 
ning  of  her  servants  up  the  back  stairs. 


288  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Drusilla,  hastily  wiped  her  eyes  as  Pina  entered  the 
room. 

"  Your  master  has  come.  Send  Leo  around  to  the  stable 
to  take  his  horse,  and  do  you  bring  up  the  supper-tray," 
she  said. 

And  the  girl  left  the  room  to  obey  orders ;  but  before 
going  down  stairs  she  went  and  unlocked  the  front  door, 
and  set  it  slightly  ajar,  that  her  master  might  enter  at  once 
when  he  should  reach  the  house. 

Brasilia  meanwhile  tried  to  still  the  spasmodic  sobs  that 
were  yet  heaving  her  bosom,  and  to  force  back  the  tears 
that  were  yet  wetting  her  eyes,  and  to  put  011  a  pleasant 
face  to  meet  her  beloved.  But  it  is  not  so  easy  all  at  once 
to  suppress  nervous  excitement. 

So  when  Alexander  hurried  through  the  hall  door,  locking 
it  as  he  passed,  and  hurried  into  the  drawing-room  to  see 
her,  she  was  still  sobbing  and  weeping. 

He  stopped  short  in  surprise  and  some  anger. 

"  Why,  Drusa  !  why,  what  is  all  this  row  about  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Alick,  Alick  ! "  she  gasped,  her  nerves  being  all 
unstrung,  "  I  did  not  think  you  would  have  stayed  away 
from  me  to-night !  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  so  long,  as 
I  have  waited  for  you  so  often  !  oh,  so  often  !  " 

"  Is  that  meant  for  a  reproach,  Drusilla  ?  "  he  asked, 
coldly,  as  he  dropped  into  a  chair. 

"  Oh,  no,  Alick  !  no  dear,  no  !  but  I  can  not — can  not 
"help  it!" 

And  she  cried  harder  than  ever. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  pretty  way  to  meet  a  man,  upon  my 
word,  after  he  has  taken  a  long  cold  ride  to  see  you,"  said 
Mr.  Lyon,  angrily. 

"  I  didn't  mean  it,  Alick !  Indeed  I  didn't,  dear  !  I 
tried  hard  to  help  it ;  but  I  couldn't.  I  broke  down,"  she 
cried,  sobbing  heavily  between  her  words. 

"  Humph,  this  is  pleasant,  upon  my  soul,"  he  said,  grimly, 
watching  her  without  making  one  attempt  to  soothe  her. 


HEE     LOVE.  289 

"  I  know — I  know  how  bad  it  is  in  me  to  do  so,  Alick 
dear,  and  I'm  trying  to  stop  it ;  indeed  I  am.  Bear  with 
me  a  little,  dear;  I  will  stop  soon,  indeed  I  will,"  she 
sobbed. 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  very  soon.  This  looks  very  much  as 
if  you  were  accusing  me  of  misusing  you,  Drusilla;  do  you 
mean  to  say  that  I  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  Alick !  I  never  even  thought  so  !  You 
are  very  good  to  me.  It  is  not  your  fault,  dear  j  it  is  mine. 
I  don't  know  what  ails  me  that  I  cry  so  much  at  such  little 
things.  I  feel  like  a  baby  that  wants  its  mother's  lap," 
she  said,  with  a  still  heaving  bosom,  f.v.-^g-.,. 

"That  is  very  childish,  Drusilla,"  he  answered,  in  a 
harsh,  unsympathizing  manner. 

"  I  know  it  is,  dear.  I  am  sorry  I  am  so  foolish ;  it  is 
because  I  am  so,  so  lonely,  Alick.  Oh,  so  lonely,  dear,  you 
can't  think  ;  it  is  like  death — like  heart-break.  But  it  is 
not  your  fault,  dear ;  I  don't  mean  that ;  don't  you  think 
that.  You  are  not  to  blame,  Alick  j  it  is  I.  But  then, 
dear,  think  of  this,  and  bear  with  me  a  little.  I  have  no 
one  in  the  wide  world  but  only  you  ;  and  when  you  are 
away  all  is  so  still,  so  silent — oh,  so  dreary  you  don't  know. 
If  I  only  had  a  mother  to  turn  to  when  I  feel  so  weak  and 
foolish,  and  so  lonesome — if  I  could  only  lay  my  head  down 
on  my  mother's  shoulder  when  you  are  away,  and  cry  a 
little  I  should  be  better ;  I  should'  be  all  right  when  you 
should  return  home.  But  I  have  no  mother  to  go  to, 
Alick." 

"  If  you  had  she  would  box  your  ears  for  such  nonsense  ; 
that  is,  if  I  remember  the  old  lady  rightly,"  said  Alexan 
der,  brutally,  as  he  arose  from  his  chair  and  walked  the 
room. 

But  her  nervous  excitement  was  now  subsiding.  Her 
tears  ceased  to  flow  ;  her  sobs  were  softer.  Presently  she 
wiped  her  eyes,  and,  smiling  like  sunshine  through  rain 
drops,  she  said  : 


200  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

"  It  is  all  over  now,  Alick  dear,  all  quite  over.  It  was 
only  a  summer  gust,  dear,  and  it  did  me  no  harm ;  and  you 
will  excuse  it  this  once,  Alick  ?  " 

"I  shall  hardly  know  how  to  do  so  if  this  exhibition  is 
ever  to  be  repeated,"  he  growled. 

"  I  hope  it  never  will  be,  Alick,"  she  said,  with  a  subsid 
ing  sigh,  as  she  arose  and  touched  the  bell. 

"  Drusilla,  if  you  knew  as  much  as  I  do  you  would  very 
carefully  avoid  giving  me  any  annoyance,"  he  said,  in  so 
meaning  a  manner  that  her  hand  dropped  from  the  bell-pull, 
and  she  turned  to  him  in  dismay,  and,  gazing  on  him, 
asked  : 

"  What  is  it  that  you  know,  Alick,  dear  ?  Indeed  I 
never  wish  to  annoy  you.  But  what  is  it  you  mean, 
dear  ?  " 

"  No  matter !  You  will  know  some  day ;  all  too  soon 
whenever  that  day  shall  come,"  he  said,  evasively. 

"  But,  Alick  dear,  you  frighten  me.  Please  what  is 
it?" 

"  No  matter  what.  Let  the  subject  drop,  Drusilla,"  he 
replied,  repenting  the  cruelty  that  made  him  allude  to  the 
guilty  secret  of  his  own  breast. 

"But,  dear  Alick "  she  re-commenced. 

"  Let  the  subject  drop,  I  say,"  he  interrupted  her,  in  a 
tone  so  peremptory  that  she  immediately  bowed  her  head 
and  obeyed. 

And  Pina  now  entered  the  room  with  the  tray,  and  laid 
the  cloth  for  supper.  And  having  done  so  she  retired. 

When  Mr.  Lyon  had  supped  to  his  satisfaction,  and  felt 
himself  in  a  better  humor,  he  turned  around  to  the  blazing 
fire,  and  said : 

"I  have  a- mind  to  sit  up  and  watch  to-night  for  that 
face  at  the  window." 

"  Do,  dear  Alick,  if  you  are  not  too  tired,"  she  answered. 

"  And  I  will  sit  with  my  revolver  by  my  side." 


HER      LOVE.  291 

"Yes,  do  ;  and  with  me  also." 

"  But  you  are  not  able  to  sit  up." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am.  You  know  I  slept  nearly  all  day.  And 
1  do  wish  to  watch  with  you." 

"  So  be  it  then.  But  we  must  draw  the  curtains  back 
from  the  windows,  as  they  were  last  night  and  all  nights 
before.  Who  closed  them  to-night  ?  " 

"  Leo  did,  I  suppose,  to  keep  the  face  from  looking  in 
and  frightening  me  again.  And  I  did  not  change  the  ar 
rangement,  because  I  reflected  that  you  could  see  the  light 
almost  as  well  through  these  fine  crimson  curtains  as 
glass  itself." 

"  That  is  true.  It  is  a  pity  you  or  one  of  your  servants 
had  not  thought  of  this  before.  It  would  have  saved  you  a 
fright." 

"  But,  Alick,  dear,  if  any  dangerous  person  were  lurking 
about  the  premises,  is  it  not  better  that  I  should  have 
detected  him,  even  at  the  cost  of  a  fright,  than  that  he 
should  be  let  to  go  on  and  do  the  mischief  he  is  plotting, 
whatever  that  is  ?  " 

"  There  is  something  in  what  you  say,  my  brave  little 
wi — woman,"  he  answered. 

She  did  not  perceive  how  he  caught  and  corrected  his 
words,  for  she  was  busy  drawing  back  the  curtains  of  one 
window,  while  he  did  the  like  with  those  of  the  other. 

Alexander  went  and  got  his  small  revolver  from  the  pocket 
of  his  riding  coat  and  laid  it  on  the  table  beside  him.  And 
then  they  sat  down  to  wait  the  issue. 

At  first  they  talked  a  little  in  low  voices.  Alexander 
would  make  Drusilla  tell  him  again  and  again  the  particu 
lars  of  her  two  frights.  But  she  had  so  little  to  tell. 

"  Only  a  white  stern  face,  looking  in  at  me  through  the 
dark  window." 

Alexander  questioned  her  as  to  the  hour  of  its  appear 
ance. 


292  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"It  was  at  two  o'clock  on  the  first  night.  And  at  one 
o'clock  on  the  second  night,"  she  answered. 

"  Exactly  ;  and  if  it  keeps  on  coming  an  hour  later  each 
night,  it  will  appear  at  twelve  precisely  to-night.  And  it 
now  wants  just  ten  minutes  to  that  time,"  said  Alexander, 
with  a  laugh. 

Then  he  questioned  her  as  to  her  thoughts,  feelings  and 
occupations  at  the  time  she  saw  the  face. 

Drusilla  replied  that  she  was  reading,  and  confessed  that 
she  was  thinking  of  supernatural  beings  and  feeling  a  little 
afraid  of  looking  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Precisely ;  and  now  let  me  ask  you  what  were  you  read 
ing  ?» 

"  I  had  been  reading  <  The  Night  Side  of  Nature/  "  re 
plied  Drusilla. 

"  Ha !  ha  !  ha !  "  laughed  Alexander,  "  the  secret  is  out ! 
The  face  at  the  window  was  an  optical  illusion  created  by 
your  over-excited  imagination.  Next  time,  my  little  love, 
read  Scott's  '  Demonology.'  It  will  be  a  perfect  antidote  to 
the  '  Night  Side  of  Nature.'  I  don't  wonder,  poor  child  ! 
that  3rou  were  afraid  to  look  over  your  shoulder,  or  that  you 
saw  faces  glaring  at  you  through  dark  windows.  I  wonder 
you  didn't  see  a  spectral  face  grinning  through  every  single 
pane  of  glass.  Ha !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  echoed  another  voice — a  strange,  harsh, 
unearthly  voice. 

Alexander  started  and  looked  at  his  companion,  who  was 
pale  as  death. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  shouted  the  voice  again. 

He  then  seized  his  revolver  and  turned  quickly  to  the 
window  whence  the  voice  seemed  to  come. 

"  HA  !  HA  !  HA  ! "  it  shrieked  a  third  time,  as  Alexan 
der  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  ghastly,  grinning  face  that 
showed  itself  for  an  instant  at  the  window,  and  he  levelled 
his  pistol.  But  as  he  fired  it,  it  dropped  and  disappeared. 


BREAKING.  293 

"  Stay  here  while  I  search  the  grounds,"  whispered  Mr. 
Lyon  to  his  panic-stricken  companion. 

And  revolver  still  in  hand,  he  ran  out  of  the  house. 

Drusilla  sat  with  her  hands  clasped  tightly  together,  her 
face  white  as  a  sheet  and  her  heart  half  paralyzed  with 
fright.  She  had  not  long  to  wait.  A  pistol  shot,  followed 
by  another  and  another  in  quick  succession,  startled  her. 
With  a  wild  cry  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and  rushed  out  to 
the  help  of  her  husband. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

BREAKING. 

They'd  met  e'er  yet  the  world  .had  come, 

To  wither  up  the  springs  of  truth  ; 
Amid  the  holy  joys  of  home, 

And  in  the  first  warm  flush  of  youth. 
They  parted,  not  as  lovers  part, 

With  earnest  vows  of  constancy — 
She  with  her  wronged  and  bleeding  heart, 

And  he  rejoicing  to  be  free  ! — ANONYMOUS. 

"  ALICK  !  Alick  !  Oh,  Alick,  where  are  you  ?  Answer 
me  !  Speak  to  me,  if  you  can  !  Oh,  give  me  some  sign 
where  to  search  for  you,"  Drusilla  cried,  running  wildly  out 
into  the  wintry  night,  in  the  direction  from  which  she  had 
heard  the  shots,  and  fearing  at  every  point  to  find  her  hus 
band  dead  or  wounded. 

"  Hush  !  "  whispered  a  voice  through  the  darkness.  And 
the  next  moment  her  husband  stood  by  her  side. 

"  Oh,  Alick,  thank  Heaven  you  are  alive  and  safe  !  You 
are  safe,  are  you  not,  dear  ?  "  she  eagerly  inquired. 

"  Yes;  but  that  infernal  villain  has  got  off!  " 

"  Oh,  never  mind,  so  that  you  are  not  hurt.  You  are  not 
hurt,  are  you,  Alick  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  have  not  been  in  any  danger ;  but  that  cursed 
caitiff !  he  has  escaped  !  " 


294  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Oh  dear,  let  him  go ;  so  you  are  sure  you  are  not 
wounded  ?  You  are  sure,  are  you  not,  dear  ?  You  are 
quite  sure  neither  of  those  shots  struck  you  ?  " 

"  The  shots  were  fired  by  my  own  hand,  and  I'm  only 
sorry  they  missed  their  mark,  and  that  diabolical  scoundrel 
got  off !  He  ran  like  a  quarter  horse,  Devil  fly  away  with 
him  !  I  would  have  given  a  thousand  dollars  to  have  him 
here  with  my  foot  on  his  neck  !  By  all  I  hold  sacred,  I 
would  !  "" 

"  Oh  Alick,  do  stop  thinking  about  him,  and  think  about 
yourself!  You  are  so  excited  I  don't  believe  you  know 
whether  you  are  wounded  or  not ;  you  may  be  bleeding  to 
death  now,  somewhere  under  your  coat !  Oh  Alick,  dear, 
come  in  the  house  and  let  me  look." 

"It  is  you  who  are  excited,  little  goose.  You  are  shaking 
like  an  ague  !  Come  in  the  house  yourself,  and  get  warm 
and  quiet,"  he  said,  tucking  her  under  his  arm  and  leading 
her  towards  the  cottage. 

"  But  Alick,  dear,  tell  me,  are  you  very  certain — " 

"No,  I'm  not  'very'  certain;  I'm  only  just  certain  that 
I  have  not  a  single  scratch.  That — that — miserable  mis 
creant  was  unarmed,  I  suppose,  Satan  burn  him  ! " 

"  Who  was  he,  Alick,  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  How  should  I?  I  only  know  that  he  was  some  felon 
spy,  who  has  doubtless  D*een  hanging  about  the  house,  and 
peeping  through  the  windows  o'  nights." 

"  A  spy,  Alick  ?  Only  a  spy  ?  Why  I  thought  he  was 
a  robber  and  a  murderer." 

"  My  little  love,  a  spy  is  the  most  dangerous  character 
of  the  three.  We  may  defend  ourselves  against  robbers 
and  murderers  ;  but  not  against  spies.  The  first  are  beasts 
of  prey  ;  but  the  last  are  venomous  serpents — snakes  in  the 
grass.  No  one  knows  how  long  that  infamous  wretch  ha* 
been  lurking  around  our  house,  or  how  often  he  has  beet 
peeepirg  in  at  our  windows,  or  how  much  he  has  seen." 


BREAKING.  295 

"Dear  Alick,  we  Lave  only  seen,  him  three  times." 

"  But  he  may  have  seen  us,  three  hundred  times.  Of 
course  our  eyes  were  not  always  on  the  window." 

"  That  is  true  ;  but,  after  all,  what  of  it,  Alick  ?  He 
could  not  harm  us  by  looking  at  us,"  said  the  honest  young 
creature,  who  knew  she  had  nothing  to  hide. 

"  Ugh  !  if  I  had  him  under  my  feet,  I  would  not  leave  a 
whole  bme  in  his  body!"  cried  the  double-dealing  man, 
who  was  conscious  that  he  had  a  great  deal  to  conceal. 

"  Well,  never  mind,  Alick,  dear.  For  my  part,  I  am  well 
content  that  the  man  got  off,  and  you  have  no  broken  bones 
to  account  for.  For,  after  all,  he  committed  no  great  crime 
in  looking  in  at  a  lighted  window  at  night.  Why,  Alick, 
in  walking  through  the  streets  of  the  city  in  the  evening 
you  and  I  used  to  do  the  same  thing,  only  for  the  harmless 
pleasure  of  looking  in  to  an  interior,  upon  a  pretty  domestic 
picture  of  a  family  circle  around  their  tea-table,  or  some 
thing  of  the  sort.  And  this  man  might  have  had  no  worse 
purpose." 

"His  purpose,  whatever  it  might  have  been,  should  have 
cost  him  his  life  if  I  had  caught  him!"  said  Mr.  Lyon, 
grimly. 

"  Then  I  am  truly  glad  you  did  not  catch  him.  Oh,  be 
content,  Alick,  for  you  may  be  sure^  now  that  the  man  has 
been  seen  and  chased,  he  will  never  come  to  trouble  us 
again  ! " 

"I  don't  know  that  he  will.  But  he  didn't  seem  to 
dread  being  seen,  however.  It  was  his  taunting  laugh,  you 
know,  that  drew  my  notice  to  him.  He  seemed  to  try  to 
catch  my  eye  by  mocking  my  laugh.  I  think  he  had  seen 
all  he  wished  to  see,  and  that  this  was  to  be  his  last  visit ; 
so  he  let  his  presence  be  known,  to  annoy  us.  Ah !  if  I 
ever  find  out  who  he  is,  he  shall  pay  dearly  for  his  frolic ! " 
exclaimed  Alick. 

By  this  time  they  reached  the  house  and  entered  it. 


296  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Alexander  made  Drusilla  sit  down  in  the  easy  chair 
before  the  fire,  and  then  he  went  and  carefully  closed  and 
fastened  the  doors  and  windows,  and  finally  came  and  took 
a  seat  by  her  side. 

And  they  sat  there  a  little  while  to  warm  and  rest  them 
selves  before  going  up  stairs  to  bed. 

"  Alick,"  said  Drusilla,  "  I  hope  if  you  ever  do  find  out 
who  that  man  is,  you  will  do  him  no  harm." 

"  I  will  be  his  death/'  exclaimed  Alexander,  grinding  his 
teeth. 

"No,  no,  no ;  he  may  have  been  some  poor  forlorn  crea 
ture,  who  having  no  home  of  his  own,  looked  in  upon  ours, 
as  upon  a  paradise." 

"  He  was,  more  likely,  some  vulgar  wretch,  who  in  prowl 
ing  about  here  at  night,  after  game,  has  found  out  that  a 
very  pretty  little  woman  lives  here,  often  all  alone,  and  has 
made  up  his  mind  to  get  as  many  peeps  at  her  as  he  can." 

"  Oh,  Alick !  " 

"That  is  the  secret,  now  I  come  to  think  quietly  over  the 
matter,  my  dear  ;  and  your  brilliantly  lighted  windows 
were  the  beacons  that  first  drew  him  here  to  gaze  on  you  at 
will ;  to  feast  his  eyes  on  your  beauty  ;  perhaps  to  fall  in 
love  with  you  !  Come,  what  do  you  think  of  it  all  now  ?  " 
inquired  Mr.  Lyon,  maliciously. 

"Oh,  Alick,  Alick,  don't  talk  so  to  me.  I  am  your  wife. 
Such  thoughts —  She  paused,  and  blushing  deeply, 

turned  away  her  head. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  little  love  ?  "  he  laughed. 

"  You  should  not  breathe  such  thoughts  to  me,  dear 
Alick.  But — I  shall  draw  the  curtains  before  the  windows 
every  evening  in  future." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  just  as  well  you  should  do  so.  The 
light  shining  through  their  crimson  folds  will  be  enough  to 
guide  me  home  at  night,"  he  said,  as  he  arose  and  lighted 
the  bed-roDrn  candles. 


BREAKING.  297 

She  set  the  guard  up  before  the  grate,  and  put  out  the 
lamps. 

They  left  the  drawing-room  and  went  up  stairs  together; 
but  when  they  reached  their  chamber  door,  he  put  one  of 
the  candles  in  her  hand,  saying  kindly  : 

"  Good  night,  my  dear  child.  I  hope  you  will  have  a 
good  sleep." 

And  before  she  could  answer,  he  opened  the  door  of  an 
opposite  chamber,  passed  in  and  locked  it  behind  him, 
leaving  her  standing  still  in  astonishment. 

This  was  the  first  time,  while  at  home,  that  he  had  ever 
slept  out  of  their  mutual  room.  She  could  not  imagine 
why  he  should  do  so  now.  If  he  had  not  spoken  so  kindly 
to  her,  she  might  have  supposed  he  was  angry  with  her. 
But  his  good-night  had  been  even  unusually  gentle  and 
tender ;  it  had  seemed  almost  plaintive  and  deprecating. 
But  then  he  had  not  only  passed  their  chamber  and  gone 
into  another  room,  but  he  had  locked  the  door  behind  him, 
thus  securing  himself  against  possible  intrusion.  Whose 
intrusion  ?  she  asked  herself — hers,  his  wife's  ?  Well,  she 
wras  his  wife,  she  thought ;  but  dearly  as  she  loved  him, 
scarcely  living,  except  by  his  side,  she  would  never  intrude 
upon  his  chosen  solitude. 

She  stood  there  in  perplexed  and  painful  thought,  in 
quiring  and  wondering  why  he  left  her  and  locked  her  out. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  she  said  to  herself,  he  was  still  a  little 
angry  with  her,  for  having  cried  so  much  that  evening. 
She  must  find  out^  She  could  not  go  to  rest,  she  \vould 
never  be  able  to  sleep  without  knowing  whether  he  was 
really  displeased  with  her,  and  reconciling  him  to  herself. 
She  would  not  intrude  upon  him,  she  thought,  no,  never ! 
But  she  would  rap  at  his  door  and  ask  if  she  had  offended 
him,  and  if  so,  she  would  do  all  that  she  could  to  atone  for 
such  offence.  For  she  must  make  friends  with  him  before 
she  left  the  spot,  or — die ! 


298  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

So  she  went  and  rapped  at  his  door  and  then  waited. 

She  heard  him  moving  about  the  room,  but  he  made  no 
response. 

She  thought  he  had  not  heard  her,  so  she  rapped  again. 

"  Well !     Who  is  there  ?  "  he  inquired  from  within. 

"  It  is  I,  your  little  Drusa,  Alick,"  she  answered,  in  a 
low  and  tremulous  tone. 

"What  do  you  want,  Drusilla?" 

"  Oh,  Alick  dear,  my  heart  is  breaking ;  please  don't 
be  mad  with  me,"  she  pleaded,  in  her  most  plaintive  voice. 

"I  am  not  mad  with  you,  child  j  why  should  you  think 
so?" 

"  Oh,  Alick,  I  thought — I  thought  you  were  displeased, 
because — because — "  She  could  not  go  on. 

"  What  reason  could  I  have  for  being  angry  with  you, 
child  ?  "  he  asked  again,  putting  his  question  in  a  form  that 
he  thought  she  could  more  easily  answer. 

"  Why,  my  crying  so  much  this  evening,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  bosh  !  that  is  all  over  now.  No,  little  Drusa,  I 
have  no  cause,  no  just  cause  of  complaint  against  you.  If 
I  am  ever  angry  with  you,  it  is  from  my  own  quick  temper, 
and  by  no  fault  of  yours,  my  child.  Now  go  to  bed  like  a 
good  girl,  or  rather  like  a  sweet  little  saint  as  you  truly  are. 
Good  night,  my  little  Drusa,"  he  said. 

"  Good  night,  dear  Alick,"  she  answered,  turning  sadly 
away. 

She  went  to  her  own  room  and  set  the  candle  on  the 
mantle-piece,  sank  into  her  easy  chair,  and  lapsed  into  sor 
rowful  thought. 

"  He  said  he  was  not  angry  with  me ;  yes,  he  said  so  ;  but 
he  never  told  me  why  he  left  my  room,  and  he  never  even 
opened  the  door  to  speak  to  me,  nor  yet  kissed  me  good 
night.  No,  he  is  not  angry  with  me  ;  not  angry,  but  sick 
and  tired  of  me,  as  I  might  have  known  he  would  be  ;  for 
what  am  I  t(  please  him  who  has  been  used  to  ladies  of 


BREAKING.  299 

the  highest  rank  and  culture  ?  Yes,  Be  is  sick  and  tired 
of  me,  and  it  is  not  his  fault — it  is  mine ;  and  I  wishj 
oh,  I  wish,  it  were  no  sin  to  die  ! " 

And  she  dropped  her  head  upon  the  arm  of  her  chair 
and  wept  bitterly ;  wept  till  she  was  so  exhausted  that  she 
slipped  from  the  chair  to  the  carpet,  and,  grovelling  there, 
wept  on. 

Her  tears  like  her  grief,  seemed  inexhaustible  ;  for,  when 
the  daylight  dawned  and  the  sun  rose,  she  was  still  lying 
where  she  had  sunk  overcome  with  sorrow. 

At  length  when  thej  morning  was  well  advanced,  she 
remembered  her  housewifely  duties,  and  slowly  got  up  and 
rang  the  bell  for  her  maid. 

Then,  lest  her  evening  dress  should  excite  the  girl's  curi 
osity,  as  it  did  on  a  former  occasion,  she  quickly  took  it  off 
and  threw  around  her  a  chamber  wrapper. 

Pina  came  in  and  put  fresh  logs  on  the  fire,  and  filled 
the  ewers,  and  laid  out  clean  towels,  and  then  stood  wait 
ing. 

"There  is  nothing  more,  Pina;  you  may  go,"  said  her 
mistress. 

And  the  maid  left  the  room. 

Drusilla  bathed  her  eyes  and  face,  and  combed  her  hair, 
and  dressed  herself  as  tastefully  as  if  she  had  slept  through 
a  happy  night  and  waked  to  a  gladsome  morning. 

And  she  went  down  stairs  to  see  to  t-he  breakfast.  The 
cozy  drawing-room,  the  bright  fire,  the  clean  hearth,  the 
neat  table,  all  the  accessories  of  her  sweet  home,  and,  above 
all,  the  clear  sunshiny  morning,  early  harbinger  of  spring, 
cheered  her  spirits  and  inspired  more  hopeful  thoughts  than 
had  been  hers  on  the  evening  previous. 

"  Alick  loved  me  from  my  childhood,"  she  said,  "  and 
cliose  me  freely  for  his  wife  from  all  others  that  he  might 
have  had.  And  he  is  very  good  to  me.  He  spoke  gently 
to  me  even  last  night.  Perhaps  he  is  not  so  w^eary  of  rne 


300  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

as  I  think.  Perhaps  he  loves  me  still.  And  my  doubts 
come  only  from  my  own  fancies.  Oh,  Heaven  grant  that  it 
ma}7  be  so.  I  will  see  how  he  will  meet  me  this  morning. 
But,  oh  !  if  I  should  be  so  keen  to  note  every  word  and 
look  that  he  gives  me,  or  don't  give  me,  how  ill  I  should  re 
quite  his  love.  Shall  I  turn  jealous  fool,  and  watch  my 
Alick  as  if  he  were  a  foe  to  be  suspected,  and  not  my  dear 
husband  to  be  loved  and  trusted  to  the  last  ?  No,  Alicf, 
dear,  no  ;  I  will  do  you  no  such  wrong.  I  know  I'm  a  big 
little  fool,  but  not  such  a  one  as  that,  either.  What  if  he 
did  leave  me  last  night.  Perhaps  he  needed  to  be  very 
quiet,  after  so  much  excitement  as  he  has  had  these  two 
nights.  I  am  sure,  I  am  so  nervous  sometimes  that  I  can 
not  bear  a  movement  or  a  ray  of  light  in  my  room,  and  why 
should  he  not  be  subject  to  the  same  moods,  even  if  he  is  a 
strong  man  ?  Come,  I  will  trust  my  husband,  as  well  as 
love  him." 

This  reaction  of  feeling,  brought  about  mostly  by  the 
blessed  sunshine  of  morning  and  the  benign  influence  of 
home,  called  back  the  color  to  the  young  wife's  cheeks 
and  the  light  to  her  eyes. 

Alexander  came  down  earlier  than  usual.  And  she 
arose  from  her  seat  to  receive  his  morning  kiss. 

But  she  did  not  get  it.  He  passed  her,  and  dropped  into 
his  chair,  and  said  : 

"  Eing  for  breakfast,  Drusa.  I  must  get  off  to  town 
sooner  by  an  hour  this  morning." 

With  a  suppressed  sigh,  she  pulled  the  bell ;  and  when 
Pina  appeared,  she  ordered  breakfast  to  be  served  immedi 
ately. 

Alexander  was  thoughtful  even  to  gloom.  He  had  to 
break  to  Drusilla  the  news  of  his  intended  sudden  departure. 
A*nd  he  dreaded  to  do  it,  and  he  did  not  know  how  to 
begin. 

The  morning  meal  was  served.     They  sat  down  to  the 


BREAKING.  301 

table.  Drusilla  poured  out  the  coffee,  and,  in  handing  her 
husband  his  cup,  she  said  : 

"  You  are  not  feeling  well  this  morning,  Alick,  dear  ?  " 

"No,  Drusa,  I  am  not  well,  in  spirits  at  least.  I  have  a 
very  painful  duty  before  me,  little  Drusa,"  he  answered, 
catching  at  this  opening  for  his  discourse. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Alick/7  she  replied,  and  then  waited 
for  his  further  speech. 

"  I  shall  be  obliged  to  leave  home  for  a  short  time.  I 
did  not  like  to  tell  you  last  night,  lest  it  should  disturb 
your  rest,"  he  said,  little  knowing  how  utterly  his  desertion 
had  deprived  her  of  that  rest. 

"•  Oh,  Alick,  dear,  must  you  really  go  ?  " 

"I  must  really  go,  Drusilla.  That  business  connected 
with  my  father's  will  obliges  me  to  do  so,"  he  gravely  said. 

"  Shall  you  take  me  with  you,  Alick  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a 
low,  timid  voice. 

"  No,  Drusa ;  of  course  not.  If  I  could  take  you  along 
I  should  not  feel  so  badly  about  going,"  he  answered. 

"  Oh,  Alick,  I  am  so  sorry,  dear." 

"  I  shall  not  stay  very  long,  Drusa.  I  shall  come  back 
to  you  as  soon  as  I  possibly  can,  my  child." 

"  I  know  you  will,  Alick.     Where  do  you  go  ?  " 

"  Into  Virginia,  of  course,  where  our  estates  lie." 

"  Oh,  what  a  troublesome  business  that  is  connected  with 
your  father's  will,  to  be  sure — to  bother  you  so  much  as  it 
has  ever  since  we  have  been  married.  Why  cannot  lawyers 
make  wills  so  clear  that  there  can  be  no  mistake  about 
their  meaning  ?  " 

"  Ah,  why  indeed  ? "  repeated  Mr.  Lyon,  laughing  in 
spite  of  his  secret  self-reproach. 

"  When  do  you  start,  dear  Alick  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  morning,  my  child." 

"  So  soon  !     Oh,  that  is  very  sudden  !  " 

"  These   matters  admit  of  no  delay,   Drusa.     Now,  my 


302  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

little  woman,  don't  look  so  downcast.  It  is  unpleasant 
enough  for  me  to  have  to  leave  you.  Don't  add  to  my 
vexation  by  your  looks." 

"No,  Alick,  I  will  not  if  I  can  help  it.  You  will  want 
your  clothes  got  ready,"  she  added,  cheerfully,  "  and  the 
time  is  short.  Tell  me  at  once,  please,  what  you  would 
like  to  take  with  you,  and  I  will  pack  them  up  to-day." 

"Oh,  a  dozen  of  each  sort  of  imder-garment;  one  morn 
ing  and  one  evening  suit ;  my  dressing-case  and  writing- 
case  ;  those  are  all,  I  think.  Have  them  put  into  the  little 
black  Kussia  leather  trunk." 

"  I  will  pack  them  myself,  Alick  dear,  and  then  they  will 
be  sure  to  be  done  right." 

"  As  you  please,  little  woman." 

"  How  long  shall  you  be  gone,  Alick  ?  Can  you  tell  me 
that?" 

"  Oh,  not  exactly.  The  length  of  my  absence  depends 
upon  circumstances.  Not  more  than  a  week  or  ten  days  at 
most." 

"  At  least  you  will  be  sure  to  be  back  within  the  fort 
night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly.  But  you  know  we  can  talk  over  all 
this  to-night,  when  I  get  back  from  town.  I  shall  cer 
tainly  be  home  to  tea,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  as  he  arose  from 
the  table. 

"  Then  I  shall  hope  to  see  you.  And  I  know  you  will 
come  if  you  can,  Alick,"  she  answered,  as  she  thought  of 
her  constant  disappointments  in  this  respect. 

He  understood  her,  and  he  answered,  as  he  drew  on  his 
riding-coat : 

"  I  can  be  back  this  last  evening,  and  I  will.  Good-bye 
until  I  see  you  again,  little  Drusa." 

And  he  put  on  his  hat  and  hurried  out  of  the  house, 
pulling  on  his  gloves  as  he  passed. 

And  the  next  moment  he  mounted  his  horse  and  gallop 
ed  away. 


FIRST      ABSENCE.  803 

CHAPTEE  XXXI. 

FIRST   ABSENCE. 

I  heard  thy  light,  careless  farewell,  love, 

And  patiently  saw  thee  depart — 
Ay,  patiently.    But  could  words  tell,  love, 

The  sorrow  that  swelled  in  my  heart? 
Yet  tearless  and  still  though  I  stood,  love, 

Thy  last  words  are  thrilling  rne  yet, 
And  my  lips  would  now  breathe  if  they  could,  love, 

The  deep  prayer — "Oh  do  not  forget." — ANON. 

DRUSILLA  went  to  her  own  room,  wept  a  little,  and 
blamed  herself  for  that  weakness,  and  then  she  called  her 
maid  to  help  her,  and  she  spent  the  whole  day  in  prepar 
ing  her  husband's  wardrobe  for  his  journey. 

It  happened  for  once  that  Mr.  Lyon  could  keep  his  word 
to  his  wife  without  much  personal  inconvenience,  and  so  he 
kept  it. 

"When  he  reached  the  city  that  day  he  made  a  morning 
call  upon  his  uncle  and  his  cousin.  He  found  the  General 
was  engaged  to  dine  that  evening  with  a  veteran  brother 
officer,  and  Miss  Lyon  would  be  occupied  with  the  prepara 
tions  for  her  journey,  so  that  neither  the  old  gentleman  nor 
the  young  lady  would  be  at  liberty  to  entertain  him  longer 
than  the  morning. 

After  lunching  with  his  relatives,  and  arranging  to  join 
them  at  nine  the  next  morning,  he  bade  them  good  day. 

He  went  to  his  own  hotel  where  he  called  for  his  bill, 
settled  it  in  full,  gave  up  the  keys  of  his  rooms,  and  so 
closed  his  connection  with  the  house. 

Prom  the  hotel  he  went  to  the  livery  stable,  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  homeward. 

He  reached  Cedarwood  at  seven  o'clock.  He  found  his 
trunk  ready  packed,  corded  and  labelled  for  his  journey, 
and  standing  in  the  hall.  He  found  the  drawing-room  as 
cozy  and  inviting  as  his  wife  always  made  it  for  his  recep- 


304  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

tion ;  the  fire  burning  brightly,  and  the  tea-table  standing 
before  it  spread  with  all  the  dainties  he  mo.st  liked ;  and, 
above  all,  he  found  her,  pretty,  well-dressed,  and  cheerful  as 
she  could  command  herself  to  be. 

This  was  the  first  time  for  many  weeks  that  he  had  taken 
tea  with  his  wife,  and  she  made  it  a  festive  occasion.  He 
began  again  to  realize  that  he  loved  her ;  he  felt  like  press 
ing  her  to  his  heart  as  in  the  first  days  of  their  marriage, 
before  the  witchery  of  the  world  came  between  them,  or  he 
had  discovered  what  he  supposed  to  be  the  illegality  of  their 
marriage.  Yes,  he  would  have  liked  to  have  shown  her 
these  proofs  of  reviving  affection  ;  but  he  did  not.  He  had 
decided,  in  the  secrecj-  of  his  own  insane  mind,  that  she 
was  henceforth  to  be  only  as  a  sister  to  him  until  he  should 
be  able  to  part  with  her  entirely ;  and  so  he  treated  her  now 
very  gently  but  very  coldly. 

After  tea,  which  he  took  care  should  be  prolonged  as  far 
into  the  evening  as  possible,  he  asked  her  to  sing  and  play 
for  him. 

And  she  very  gladly  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  executed 
some  of  his  favorite  pieces  in  her  very  best  style. 

He  purposely  kept  her  there,  playing  piece  after  piece, 
until  she  was  really  wearied. 

And  then  when  she  rose  from  the  instrument  he  took  the 
lead  in  the  conversation,  and  would  talk  of  nothing  but 
music,  musicians,  and  composers  until  the  clock  struck 
eleven.  Then  he  suddenly  said : 

"  My  little  girl  it  is  late,  and  you  are  tired ;  go  to  bed  at 
once.  I  have  letters  to  write  that  will  detain  me  an  hour 
or  so.  When  I  have  finished  them  I  will  come  up." 

"  Alick,  dear,  letters  to  write  so  late  to-night  when  you 
have  to  start  so  early  to-morrow  ? }} 

"  Yes,  little  Drusa. 

"Why  didn't  you  write  them  earlier  in  the  evening, 
then  ?  " 


FIRST      ABSENCE.  305 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  enjoy  every  moment  of  your  com 
pany  while  you  sat  up,  Drusa,  and  I  knew  I  could  write 
them  after  you  had  retired/'  he  artfully  replied. 

"  But  I  had  rather  not  leave  you  at  all  this  last  evening, 
Alick.  I  will  sit  very  quietly  near  you  and  not  interrupt 
you  the  least  while  you  write  your  letters." 

"  But  I  will  not  permit  you  to  do  so,  Drusa.  You  are 
pale  with  want  of  rest  even  now ;  and  you  will  make  a 
point  of  getting  up  to-morrow  morning  even  sooner  than  I 
shall — I  know  you  will." 

"  I  must,  Alick  dear,  to  see  that  you  have  a  good  break 
fast  ready  in  time  to  eat  it  leisurely  before  you  go." 

"  Just  so ;  therefore  you  must  go  to  rest  now.  There,  be 
a  good  girl,  and  clear  out,  will  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  Alick,"  she  answered,  in  a  depressed  tone. 
"  Good  night ;  "  and  she  put  up  her  lips  to  kiss  him. 

"  Bosh  !  no  good-night  in  the  case.  Do  you  think  I  am 
going  to  sit  up  till  day  writing  letters  ?  "  he  said,  laughing 
and  evading  her  caress. 

Feeling  that  something  was  very  wrong,  yet  trying  not 
to  think  so,  she  left  the  room  and  went  up  stairs  to  bed. 

And  after  a  little  while,  being  almost  worn  out  by  so 
many  nights'  watching,  she  fell  asleep  and  slept  until 
morning. 

Meanwhile,  Alexander  wrote  a  couple  of  trifling  letters, 
and  then,  not  to  disturb  her,  he  stole  on  tip-toes  up  to  his 
newly  chosen  room  and  went  to  rest. 

Drusilla  was  the  first  up  in  the  morning,  before  even  her 
servants  were  astir.  She  roused  Pina  and  set  her  to  work, 
and  helped  with  her  own  hands,  and  to  such  good  purpose 
that  a  very  nice  breakfast  was  soon  ready  and  waiting  for 
Alexander. 

He  came  down,  and  greeted  Drusilla  kindly,  but  without 
his   usual  morning  kiss.      And   she  felt  the  slight  j    but 
neither  spoke  nor  looked  her  chagrin. 
19 


806  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  You  were  so  still  that  I  thought  you  were  asleep  when 
I  went  up  stairs  last  night,  so  I  took  care  not  to  wake  you 
by  entering  your  room  ;  for  you  needed  rest  very  much, 
little  Drusa,"  he  said,  in  explanation  of  his  second  deser 
tion. 

"  Yes,  Alick,"  she  answered,  quietly ;  and  she  went  on 
to  make  his  coffee. 

"When  breakfast  was  over  there  came  a  hurried  leave- 
taking. 

Alexander  pulled  on  his  riding-coat  in  great  haste ;  drew 
on  his  gloves  and  then  looked  at  Drusilla. 

"  "Well/7  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  she  is  henceforth  only 
like  ray  sister ;  but  I  should  embrace  my  sister  before  leav 
ing  her  to  go  on  a  journey." 

"  What  are  you  saying,  Alick  dear  ? "  inquired  Dru 
silla,  who  caught  the  sound,  but  not  the  import  of  his 
words. 

"  Nothing.  Good-bye,  my  little  Drusa,  my  darling  little 
Drusa,"  he  said,  folding  her  to  his  bosom  and  kissing  her  as 
no  man  ever  kissed  his  sister  yet,  and  as  he  had  not  kissed 
her  for  many  weeks. 

"  You  do  love  me  then,  after  all,  don't  you,  Alick  ?  "  she 
said,  in  delight. 

"Love  you!  I  think  I  do,  little  darling!  But  now  I 
must  tear  myself  from  you,  Drusa.  You  will  find  in  my 
glass  drawer  a  roll  of  bank-notes  amounting  to  between  five 
and  six  hundred  dollars,  for  your  use  while  I  am  gone." 

"  Oh,  Alick,  I  shall  never  want  the  tenth  part  in  so  short 
a  time  as  a  fortnight ;  and  you  are,  to  be  home  in  a  fort 
night,  are  you  not,  Alick  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  surely.  Now  then,  good-bye ! "  he  hastily 
exclaimed,  giving  her  another  tight  hug  and  long  kiss. 

"  You  will  write  soon,  Alick  ?  "  she  said,  following  him 
to  the  front  door." 

"  Very  soon." 


BRIGHT    "HOPES.  •      £07 

"  But  I  shall  want  to  write  to  you  every  day,  beginning 
this  evening.  Where  shall  I  direct  the  first  letter,  Alick  ?  " 

"  To  the  post-office  at  Bichmond." 

"  Then  you  will  find  one  from  ine  in  Bichmond  the  day 
after  you  get  there." 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  darling  !  Thank  you,  pet !  Good-bye  ! 
Good-bye  !  I  have  not  an  instant  to  lose,"  he  hurriedly 
exclaimed,  wringing  her  hand  and  jumping  into  the  car 
riage,  upon  which  his  luggage  was  already  placed. 

Leo,  who  was  in  the  driver's  seat,  cracked  his  whip  and 
started  his  horses. 

Drusilla  watched  the  carriage  out  of  sight,  and  then 
turned  sadly  and  went  into  the  house. 

Alexander  drove  rapidly  to  the  town,  and  first  to  a  hack 
stand,  where  he  had  his  luggage  taken  and  put  upon  a 
hack.  Then  he  sent  Leo  back  to  Cedarwood  with  his  car 
riage,  and  he  himself  got  into  the  hack  and  drove  to  his 
uncle's  hotel,  where  he  found  the  old  gentleman  impatiently 
waiting  for  him. 

And  in  an  hour  the  whole  family  party  had  started  on 
their  voyage,  and  were  steaming  down  the  Potomac  on  their 
way  to  Bichmond,  where  early  the  next  morning  they 
arrived  safely. 


CHAPTEB   XXXII. 

BRIGHT     HOPES. 

One  precious  pearl  in  sorrow's  cup 

Unmelted  at  the  bottom  lay, 
To  shine  again,  when  all  drunk  up 

The  bitterness  should  pass  away. 
And  that  was  hope,  a  fair  sweet  hope; 

And  oh,  it  woke  such  happy  dreams, 
And  gave  her  soul  such  tempting  scope 

For  all  its  dearest,  fondest  schemes. — MOOBB. 

THE  loving  little  wife,  the  zealous  little  houskeeper,  did 
not  sit  down  in  idleness  and  repining  while  her  husband 


308  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

was   absent.      Occupation   was   always  her   great  resource 
against  melancholy. 

She  was,  besides,  too  much  in  sympathy  with  all  nature 
not  to  feel  the  influence  of  the  vitalizing  spring  season, 
with  the  reviving  world  around  her. 

The  sun  was  shining  with  a  more  genial  splendor ;  the 
air  was  soft  and  warm  ;  the  ground  was  quickening  with 
the  springing  grass  and  the  trees  with  the  rising  sap  and 
budding  leaves.  Birds  were  building  their  nests.  All 
things  inspired  thoughts  of  renovation. 

Little  Drusilla  resolved  to  refresh  her  pretty  wildwood 
home  with  a  spring  cleaning,  so  that  it  might  possess  new 
attractions  for  its  truant  master,  when  he  should  please  to 
return. 

Not  that  her  house  required  this — for  it  was  already  as 
clean  and  sweet  as  it  was  possible  for  any  dwelling  to  be  ; 
and  the  process  to  which  she  subjected  it  was  but  the 
washing  of  what  was  already  pure,  and  the  polishing  of 
what  was  already  bright.  But  it  was  her  maxim,  as  it  had 
been  her  mother's  before  her,  that  things  should  not  be 
permitted  to  become  soiled  before  they  were  cleaned ;  but 
that  they  should  be  kept  clean. 

In  the  course  of  this  work  Drusilla  opened  the  drawer  of 
the  looking-glass  in  Alexander's  dressing-room,  and  while 
putting  its  contents  in  order  she  found  that  little  piece  of 
paper  which  had  produced  so  strange  an  effect  upon  his 
feelings  and  actions.  Thinking  it  to  be  only  some  little 
receipt,  or  memorandum,  she  opened  it  and  read  it. 

Its  eifect  upon  her  was  very  different  from  what  it  had 
been  upon  her  husband.  As  she  gathered  its  meaning  her 
face  softened  with  a  sweet  and  tender  smile,  and  she  sat 
down  in  a  chair  to  contemplate  it  at  more  leisure. 

"  I  never  saw  this  before  ;  or  any  other  of  the  sort. 
How  it  brings  back  that  day!  that  happy  wedding-day! 
the  happiest  of  my  life  !  Dear  Alick !  dear,  dear  Alick, 


BRIGHT      HOPES.  309 

how  blest  you  made  me  that  day,  in  making  me  your  own 
forever  !  forever  and  ever,  my  love  !  My  joy  seemed  too 
much  for  earth,  too  much  to  be  real.  Even  now,  even  now? 
I  can  scarcely  realize  how  happy  I  am  and  ought  to  be  ! 
Oh,  my  love  !  my  love  !  I  hope  I  may  never  give  you  an 
uneasy  moment  as  long  as  I  live  in  this  world  \  that  I  may 
never  cease  to  please  and  serve  you  all  my  days  !  Dear 
little  token  ! "  she  said,  fondly  gazing  on  that  fatal  piece  of 
paper — "  I  will  keep  you  for  his  sake.  When  I  am  sad  and 
lonely  I  will  look  at  you.  I  will  cherish  you  like  my 
wedding-ring." 

And  she  went  directly  and  made  a  little  silk  bag,  put  the 
paper  in  it,  attached  it  to  a  ribbon,  hung  it  around  her  neck 
and  hid  it  in  her  bosom. 

Then  smilingly  she  resumed  her  work. 
When  she  considered  the  house  thoroughly  cleansed  and 
worthy  of  its  summer  hangings,  she  told  Pina  that  crimson 
satin  curtains  should  not  be  put  up  again  until  autumn. 

Arid  she  ordered  Leo  to  put  the  horses  into  the  carriage 
to  take  her  to  town. 

This  was  the  first  occasion  upon  which  she  had  left  home 
for  many  weeks.  And  she  went  now  upon  a  shopping  ex 
pedition,  to  purchase  white  lace  curtains  for  her  windows, 
and  white  linen  to  make  summer  covers  for  her  crimson 
satin  chair  and  sofa  cushions. 

She  spent  the  whole  forenoon  in  making  her  selections ; 
and  then,  feeling  tired  and  hungry,  she  drove  to  a  "  Ladies' 
Tea  Room,"  where  she  had  once  been  with  Alexander. 

She  entered  and  sat  down  at  one  of  the  little  tables  and 
asked  for  a  cup  of  chocolate  and  some  seed  cakes,  which 
were  soon  brought.  « 

While  she  ate  and  drank  she  looked  about  her  with  the 
curiosity  natural  to  one  who  had  lately  led  so  secluded  a 
life.  The  room  was  half  full  of  customers.  At  some  of 
the  tables  small  family  parties  of  parents  and  children  were 


310  THE      CHANGED      BKIDES. 

gathered.  At  others  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  seated. 
And  at  the  table  exactly  opposite  to  her  own  there  were  two 
officers  and  two  young  women  who  were  dining  and  drink 
ing  wine,  laughing  and  talking,  and  conducting  themselves 
generally  in  a  manner  not  agreeable  to  quiet  and  well- 
disposed  people. 

Drusilla  glanced  at  this  noisy  party  but  once,  and  recog 
nized  the  officers  as  the  same  who  had  intruded  into  her  box 
on  the  night  she  went  to  hear  the  German  opera  troupe. 
Chiefly  because  the  party  were  so  ill-behaved,  she  was  afraid 
to  look  towards  them  again.  So  she  drew  her  veil  around 
between  the  side  of  her  face  and  her  obnoxious  neighbors, 
and  she  looked  down  into  her  plate. 

Natural  as-  this  action  was,  it  caught  the  attention  of  the 
officers  ;  and,  innocent  as  it  was,  it  gave  umbrage  to  their 
female  companions. 

"  She  sees  that  we  recognize  her,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

And  a  low,  derisive  laugh  came  from  one  of  the  women. 

Very  much  abashed,  and  also  a  little  alarmed,  Drusilla 
left  her  luncheon  half  consumed  and  went  to  the  counter  to 
pay  her  bill. 

But  one  of  the  officers  got  up  and  followed  her,  and,  as 
she  turned  to  leave  the  room,  he  placed  himself  before  her, 
and,  lifting  his  hat,  said  : 

"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  ?  " 

Drusilla  bowed  in  silence,  and  attempted  to  pass  on. 

"  Excuse  me,  but  when  did  you  reach  town  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir ;  I  have  not  the  honor  of  your 
acquaintance,"  said  Drusilla,  coldly,  passing  him  by  and 
quickly  leaving  the  house. 

But  he  followed  her  out  on  the  sidewalk,  and  joining  her, 
said : 

"  You  '  have  not  the  honor  of  my  acquaintance/  eh  ? 
Well,  the  ' honor'  is  questionable,  but  the  acquaintance  is 
beyond  a  doubt,  my  dear  !  What !  don't  you  remember 


BRIGHT      HOPES.  311 

the  night  I  came  into  the  box,  to  chaff  my  friend  Lyon  on 
his  pretty  little  acquisition,  eh  ?  By  the  way,  how  is 
Lyon?" 

By  this  time  Drusilla  had  beckoned  her  servant,  who 
drove  up  with  the  carriage,  dismounted,  opened  the  door, 
and  let  down  the  steps  for  his  mistress. 

"  But  you  didn't  tell  me  how  my  friend  Lyon  is.  I  hope 
he  is  well.  I  know  he  has  left  his  rooms  at  the  hotel.  But 
if  you  will  favor  me  with  your  address,  Miss — " 

"  Leo,"  said  Drusilla  to  her  coachman,  as  she  entered 
her  carriage,  "this  person  annoys  me.  If  you  see  a  police 
man  give  him  in  charge,  and — drive  on." 

"  Yes,  madam,"  answered  the  man,  heartily,  cracking  his 
whip  and  starting  his  horses. 

But  the  animals  were  not  fresh,  and  they  had  not  been 
fed  or  watered  since  morning.  So  they  did  not  move  with 
their  usual  spirit.  And  Drusilla  had  not  gone  far  up 
Seventh  street  road,  on  her  way  home,  before  she  perceived 
that  she  was  followed  by  a  hack  that  was  gaining  upon  her 
every  moment. 

At  first  she  supposed  this  following  to  be  accidental ;  but 
when  the  hack  driving  rapidly,  caught  up  to  her  and  might 
have  passed  her,  yet  did  not ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  slack 
ened  its  pace  and  kept  just  behind  her ;  she  suspected  that 
there  was  something  more  than  accident  in  the  matter. 

And  her  suspicions  were  confirmed  when  she  heard  loud 
laughing  and  talking  in  the  hack,  and  recognized  the  voices 
of  the  disreputable  party  who  had  insulted  her  in  the  tea 
room. 

She  quickly  let  down  the  little  window  in  front  of  her 
own  carriage,  and  spoke  to  her  coachman : 

"  Leo — drive  fast." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  which  it  is  necessary  so  to  do." 

"  Who  are  those  people  behind,  Leo  ?  "  she  breathlessly 
inquired. 


312  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  A  intoxified  set,  ma'am,  which  is  unbeknown  to  me ; 
being  always  too  well  conducted  to  be  acquainted  with  sich ; 
which  I  think  one  of  um  is  the  person  you  complained  of, 
ma'am." 

"  Yes !  go  on  quickly,  for  Heaven's  sake,  Leo ;  let  us 
leave  them  behind  as  soon  as  possible,"  hastily  urged 
Drusilla. 

And  the  young  coachman  put  his  jaded  horses  to  their 
utmost  speed. 

But  the  horses  in  the  hack  were  the  fresher  of  the  two 
sets,  and  they  kept  well  up  behind  her  carriage  until  they 
reached  the  gate  of  the  private  road  leading  through  Cedar- 
wood. 

Here  Leo  drew  up  his  carriage,  left  his  seat,  opened  the 
gate,  propped  it  back,  and  took  the  reins  to  lead  his  horses 
through. 

They  had  but  just  cleared  the  gate,  when  Drusilla  put 
her  head  from  the  window  and  said,  hastily  : 

"  Leo,  stop  just  where  you  are !  stop  the  way  I  Those 
persons  are  preparing  to  follow  us  in.  Tell  them  that  they 
can  not  be  permitted  to  do  so ;  that  this  is  a  very  private 
road  leading  to  my  own  house,  and  no  farther." 

At  the  first  word  Leo  had  stopped  the  carriage,  thus  bar 
ring  the  way,  and  now  he  turned  and  spoke  to  the  man  who 
was  the  ringleader  of  the  party,  and  who  had  now  left  his 
seat  and  was  mounted  beside  the  driver  on  the  box. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  this  road  leads  to  my  mist'ess's 
house  and  no  farther  on,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  we  know  where  it  leads  !  We  are  going  to  make  a 
call  there  !  "  laughed  the  man. 

"  Leo,  Leo,  do  not  let  them  pass,  whatever  you  do," 
breathlessly  whispered  Drusilla. 

"  But,  sir,  if  you  please,  my  mist'ess  don't  receive  no 
strangers,"  expostulated  the  servant. 

"  Oh,  we  are  not  strangers !     We  know  her  very  well ! 


BRIGHT      HOPES.  813 

And  we  know  Lyon,  too !  Come,  clear  the  way,  my  man, 
and  let  us  pass." 

"But,  sir,  my  mist'ess  don't  see  no  visitors  of  no  sort, 
neither  strangers  nor  likewise  acquaintances,"  urged  Leo. 

"  But  she'll  see  us ! "  laughed  the  man  on  the  box. 
And  his  laugh  was  loudly  echoed  by  his  companions  inside 
the  hack. 

During  this  controversy  Drusilla  had  sat  back  in  her 
seat,  keeping  as  much  out  of  sight  as  possible,  and  only 
leaning  forward  when  obliged  to  speak  to  her  servant. 

And  Leo  had  been  artfully  manoeuvering  his  horses,  with 
a  purpose  that  the  party  behind  were  too  much  confused  by 
intoxication  to  detect. 

"  Come,  my  man,  get  out  of  the  way,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  sir,  immediate  !  "  answered  Leo. 

And  he  suddenly  wheeled  round  the  carriage,  clanged  to 
the  gate,  and  secured  it  in  the  face  of  the  baffled  pursuers. 

Then  with  a  loud  derisive  laugh,  the  boy  sprang  up  into 
his  seat  and  drove  off  through  the  woods  towards  home. 

The  discomfited  party  in  the  hack  sent  after  him  a  vol 
ley  of  oaths,  that  he  continued  to  hear  until  distance  made 
them  inaudible. 

When  they  reached  Cedarwood,  Drusilla  got  out  of  her 
carriage  more  dead  than  alive. 

Pina  met  her  and  supported  her  into  the  house,  while 
Leo  gave  a  hasty  account  of  their  adventure. 

"  Try  to  compose  yourself,  ma'am.  Lor !  I  wouldn't  let 
myself  be  upset  by  them  rubbish  !  "  said  Pina  as  she  held  a 
glass  of  water  to  her  mistress's  lips. 

"Who  were  they,  Leo,  and  why  did  they  pursue  me?" 
inquired  Drusilla,  when  she  was  somewhat  restored. 

"  Please,  ma'am,  I  don't  know  who  they  were,  not  being 
beknown  to  sich.  But  they  were  all  intoxified,  the  whole 
lot  of  'em." 

"  But  why  did  they  pursue  me  ?  " 


314  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

"  Well,  ma'ani,  they  was  on  a  lark,  and  seen  you  was 
afeard  of  'em." 

"  There  was  more  in  it  than  that,  Leo  !  Do  you  think 
they  can  get  through  the  gate  ?  " 

«  No,  ma'am  ;  I  locked  it." 

"  But  they  can  get  out  of  the  carriage  and  climb  over 
it." 

"  No,  ma'am,  they're  too  tipsy.  They  can  hardly  sit  in 
their  seats.  The  driver  is  the  onliest  sober  one  in  the  lot, 
and  he'll  take  them  away,  you  may  be  sure,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  what  a  horrible,  what  a  revolting  set !  Oh,  that 
such  creatures  should  live  in  this  world  !  "  exclaimed  Dru- 
silla,  with  a  shudder.  And  she  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
all  her  pretty,  new  purchases  in  which  she  had  been  so 
much  interested. 

But  neither  of  her  young  servants  had  done  so.  And 
Pin  a,  in  haste  to  bring  the  treasures  in  that  she  might  have 
a  sight  at  them,  and  Leo  in  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  them, 
that  he  might  take  his  horses  round  to  the  stable,  went  out 
together. 

Pina  returned  with  her  arms  full  of  parcels. 

And  soon  Drusilla,  who  had  laid  off  her  bonnet,  lost  sight 
of  her  late  disagreeable  adventure,  in  the  pleasing  occupa 
tion  of  displaying  her  beautiful  lace  curtains  to  the  admir 
ing  eyes  of  her  handmaid. 

For  the  next  few  days,  mistress  and  maid  were  agreeably 
employed  in  making  up  the  curtains,  and  in  cutting  and 
fitting  the  white  linen  chair  covers. 

And  by  Saturday  evening  the  curtains  were  put  up,  and 
the  chair  covers  put  on,  and  the  summer  decoration  of  the 
pretty  wild  wood  home  was  complete. 

This  brought  the  end  of  the  first  week  of  Alexander's 
absence.  Drusilla  was  counting  the  days,  and  she  knew 
that  if  he  should  keep  his  word,  he  would  be  home  by  the 
end  of  another  week. 


BRIGHT      HOPES.  315 

She  had  written  to  him  every  evening,  and  sent  the 
letter  to  the  city  post  office  every  morning  by  Leo,  who  was 
also  instructed  to  inquire  for  letters  for  her.  But  as  yet 
she  had  had  but  one  from  Alick,  and  that  one  only  an 
nounced  his  safe  arrival  at  Richmond,  and  acknowledged 
the  receipt  of  her  first  note.  Since  that  she  had  not 
heard  from  him.  But  she  said  to  herself  that  he  was  very 
much  engaged,  and  could  not  be  expected  to  write  to  her 
more  than  once  or  twice  a  week.  And  so  she  comforted 
her  longing  heart. 

In  the  two  weeks  of  Alexander's  absence,  Drusilla's 
health  improved  very  much.  The  reasons  were  obvious. 

"In  the  first  place,  the  very  tender  leave  he  had  taken 
of  her  had  revived  her  fainting  faith  in  his  love,  while  the 
positive  promise  he  had  made  her  to  return  within  the  fort 
night  had  given  her  something  certain  to  anticipate. 

In  the  second  she  no  longer  sat  up  night  after  night, 
watching,  waiting  and  weeping,  in  fatigue,  suspense,  and 
even  terror,  that  wore  her  nerves  and  wasted  her  strength 
and  tried  her  temper.  She  went  to  bed  early,  slept  soundly, 
and  rose  refreshed. 

And  in  the  third,  she  had  made  a  discovery  that  filled 
her  soul  with  joy.  She  knew  now,  for  it  was  evident,  even 
to  her  ignorance  and  inexperience,  that  she  was  to  be 
blessed  with  the  crowning  blessing  of  woman's  life,  mater 
nity. 

Once  again,  on  the  Monday  of  the  second  week  of  her 
husband's  absence,  she  made  a  shopping  expedition  into  the 
city.  And  on  this  occasion  she  shut  up  the  house  and  took 
both  her  servants  along — Leo  to  drive  the  carriage  and 
Pina  to  sit  inside  with  her.  She  took  a  luncheon  basket 
too,  that  she  might  not  be  obliged  to  go  into  a  refreshment 
room  at  the  risk  of  meeting  her  disagreeable  acquaintances 
— although  reason  assured  her  that  there  was  not  one 
chance  in  a  thousand  of  her  seeing  them  under  the  same 
circumstances  again. 


3 10  T  11  i:      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

• 

This  time  Drusilla  bought  a  quantity  of  fine  flannel, 
linen,  cambric,  muslin  and  lace,  and  also  flaxen  and  silken 
floss  and  Berlin  wool  for  embroideries. 

And  Pina,  who  had  guessed  the  sweet  domestic  mystery 
long  before  her  child-like  mistress  had  suspected  it,  was  as 
much  interested  in  the  purchase  as  their  owner  could  be. 
Drusilla  returned  home  without  any  unpleasant  adventure. 
And  the  next  day  she  commenced  her  delightful  task.  And 
seated  in  her  pleasant  chamber,  surrounded  by  her  pretty 
working  materials,  devising  dainty  little  garments,  and 
anticipating  the  joys  in  store  for  her,  she  felt  happy. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIII. 

A    SURPRISE. 

One  struggle  more  and  I  am  free 
From  pangs  that  rend  my  heart  in  twain; 

One  long  last  sigh  to  love  and  thee, 
Then  back  to  busy  life  again. — BYRON. 

DRUSILLA  received  no  second  letter  from  Alexander. 
On  the  day  after  his  arrival  in  Richmond,  he  received 
and  answered  her  first  one.  Then  he  went  with  his  uncle 
and  cousin  down  to  Old  Lyon  Hall,  where  he  lived  very 
quietly  with  them  for  about  ten  days,  all  the  party  resting 
from  their  fashionable  Washington  campaign. 

At  the  end  of  that  time,  in  order  to  keep  the  letter  of 
his  promise  to  Drusilla,  he  pleaded  urgent  business,  and 
went  up  to  Richmond,  "  for  a  day  or  two,"  as  he  said. 

On  reaching  that  city,  he  hurried  to  the  post-office,  where 
he  found  nearly  a  dozen  letters  from  Cedarwood  awaiting 
him.  He  did  not  stop  to  answer  them  ;  but  took  the  first 
train  to  Washington,  and  arrived  in  the  capital  the  same 
afternoon. 


A     SURPRISE.  317 

There  was  plenty  of  time  for  him  to  have  gone  out  to 
Cedarwood  that  evening.  But,  true  to  his  plan  of  never 
sleeping  under  the  same  roof  with  Drusilla  again,  if  he 
could  help  it,  he  stayed  at  one  of  the  city  hotels  all  night. 

In  the  morning,  however,  he  hired  a  horse  from  a  livery 
stable  and  set  out  to  visit  his  home. 

That  day  Drusilla  had  also  risen  very  early,  saying  to 
herself: 

"  This  is  the  last  day  of  the  fortnight,  and  Alick  will  be 
home  to-night.  That  is  to  say,  if  nothing  happens  to  pre 
vent  him — and  surely  there  is  nothing  likely  to  happen — he 
will  keep  his  pledged  word  with  me  and  return  to-night." 

And  so  she  busied  herself  with  affectionate  preparations 
for  his  arrival. 

Tli ere  was  nothing  at  all  else  that  she  could  do  to  add  to 
the  attractions  of  the  lovely  home  she  had  renovated  and 
decorated  for  his  comfort  and  pleasure.  But  there  were 
certain  dainty  dishes  that  always  delighted  his  epicurean 
taste  ;  and  these  she  had  carefully  prepared  for  him. 

When  they  were  ready,  she  went  up  to  her  chamber  and 
sat  down  to  the  liliputian  dress-making  that  was  now  the 
sweetest  task  in  the  world  to  her. 

It  was  still  early  in  the  forenoon,  being  only  ten  o'clock, 
and  she  was  intently  engaged  upon  a  miniature  embroid 
ered  robe,  when  she  heard  th.e  sound  of  horses'  feet  ap 
proaching  the  hous*e. 

Not  expecting  that  Alexander  would  return  at  this 
unusual  hour  of  the  day,  or  in  this  manner,  and  supposing 
that  the  noise  arose  from  Leo  exercising  one  of  the  horses 
from  the  stable,  she  paid  no  attention  to  the  matter. 

But  the  next  moment  she  heard  the  sound  of  a  man's 
footsteps  on  the  stairs,  and  the  instant  after  the  door  was 
thrown  open  and  Alexander  entered  the  room. 

With  a  cry  of  joy,  she  sprang  up  to  meet  him  and  fell 
upon  his  bosom. 


818  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Why  are  you  so  glad  to  see  me  as  all  this  comes  to,  my 
little  Drusa  ?  "  he  asked,  remorsefully. 

She  could  not  answer  him.  In  her  excess  of  feeling,  she 
could  not  speak.  But  if  he  had  come  hack  from  an  absence 
of  two  years  instead  of  two  weeks,  her  delight  and  excite 
ment  could  not  have  "been  greater. 

He  kissed  and  embraced  her  very  fondly — "  as  I  should 
if  she  were  my  sister,"  perhaps  he  said  to  himself.  And 
then  with  gentle  force  he  put  her  back  in  her  chair,  and 
seated  himself  in  another  one  near  her,  and  put  his  arm 
around  her. 

"  Oh,  Alick  dear,  I'm  so  glad — so  glad  to  see  you  !  "  she 
cried,  as  soon  as  she  recovered  her  voice. 

"  So  am  I  to  see  you,  little  darling,  especially  when  I  see 
you  looking  so  well.  How  pretty  you  are  j  how  much  you 
have  improved  !  "  he  said,  running  his  fingers  through  her 
glossy  tresses,  and  gazing  admiringly  upon  her  bright  face, 
with  its  flushed  cheeks,  parted  lips,  and  eyes  sparkling 
through  tears  of  joy. 

"  Oh,  Alick,  I  am  so  happy  to  have  you  back  again ! " 
she  eagerly  repeated. 

"  And  yet  it  is  very  plain  that  you  haven't  moped  during 
my  absence  ;  have  you  now,  little  one  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  indeed,  Alick ;  I  have  been  so  cheerfully  busy 
fixing  up  the  place  against  you  should  come.  The  house 
looks  so  fresh  and  pretty  in  its  spring  dress,  Alick  dear,  I 
am  sure  you  will  enjoy  it.'7 

"  Not  fresher  or  prettier  than  the  house's  mistress,  and 
I'm  sure  I  shall  like  both,"  he  said. 

"  Shall  you,  Alick  ?  Are  you  sure  that  I  shall  be  able  to 
please  you  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  my  fault  if  you  are  not." 

"  Now  that  the  winter  is  over  and  the  summer  at  hand, 
it  will  be  pleasanter  here  in  the  country,  Alick.  And  the 
grounds  around  this  little  place  can  be  made  vury  beauti 
ful.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 


A      SURPRISE.  319 

"Yes,  little  Drusa.  And  I  intend  to  spare  neither 
trouble  nor  expense  in  making  this  little  estate  a  paradise 
for  my  peri.  An  ideal  spot  it  shall  be  ;  everything  shall  be 
arranged  according  to  your  taste.  The  woods,  since  you 
love  them,  shall  environ  the  ornamented  grounds." 

"  Oh,  Alick,  dear !  how  good  you  are  to  me  !  But  don't 
sacrifice  utility  to  beauty  for  my  sake,  Alick." 

"  Ah,  Drusa  !  I  would  sacrifice  a  much  greater  thing 
for  your  sake,"  he  said,  with  a  very  deep  sigh. 

She  looked  up  at  him  suddenly. 

"  You  are  well,  Alick  ?  quite  well,  I  hope  ?  "  were  the 
next  words  she  addressed  to  him,  as  she  gazed  anxiously  in 
his  care-worn  face. 

"  Not  very  well,  little  Drusa,"  he  answered. 

And  ah  !  who  could  be  well  with  an  evil  conscience  ! 

«It  is — nothing  serious,  dear  Alick?"  she  inquired, 
growing  pale  with  fear  for  his  health. 

"  No,  little  goose !  only  spring  languor  and  the  fatigue 
of  my  journey,"  he  answered,  with  a  laugh  that  reassured 
her. 

"  Oh ;  and  perhaps  you  have  not  had  breakfast,"  she 
exclaimed,  hastily  rising. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  have,"  he  said,  gaj^ly,  pushing  her  back  in 
her  seat.  "  I  had  breakfast  two  hours  ago.  I  don't  want 
that,  nor  do  I  want  lunch  yet,  so  you  need  give  yourself  no 
trouble  about  me  for  awhile." 

"But  would  you  like  to  go  to  your  dressing-room  ?  All 
is  ready  for  you  there." 

"  I'll  warrant ;  but  I  made  my  toilet  where  I  got  my 
breakfast,  so  I  need  not  leave  you  even  for  that  purpose." 

"  Your  luggage,  Alick,  have  they  brought  it  up  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  luggage  ;  I  came  out  on  horseback." 

"  Oh,  was  that  your  horse  I  heard  ?  "  she  inquired  in 
surprise. 

"  Yes ;  didn't  you  know  it  ?  " 


320  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  No  ;  I  thought  you  came  in  a  cab." 

"  I  preferred  the  saddle." 

"  But — how  ahout  you?  luggage,  Alick  dear  ?  Shall  I 
call  Leo  and  order  him  to  take  the  carriage  and  go  after  it  ? 
Where  did  you  leave  it  ?  At  the  hotel  where  you  break 
fasted  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  inquisitive  little  imp  !  Sit  down  and  be  quiet 
while  I  tell  you.  I  brought  very  little  luggage  to  Wash 
ington,  and  that  I  left,  as  you  surmise,  at  the  hotel  where  I 
breakfasted." 

"  Then  let  me  send  Leo  for  it.  He  can  go  and  return  in 
two  hours,"  she  said,  again  starting  up. 

"  What  a  little  fidget  you  are,  to  be  sure  !  There  is  not 
the  least  need  to  send  for  my  things  from  the  hotel.  And 
if  you  did  but  know  what  a  little  time  I  have  to  spend  with 
you,  you  would  not  be  so  eager  to  run  away  from  me." 

These  words  had  the  desired  effect.  They  prepared  her 
to  hear  his  cruel  announcement.  She  dropped  into  her 
chair,  and  looking  at  him  uneasily  said  : 

"  Oh,  Alick,  dear,  you  are  not  going  away  again,  are 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  child  ;  I  shall  be  compelled  to  leave  you  again, 
and  very  soon.  Now  listen  to  me  and  be  reasonable,  my 
good  little  girl.  I  have  kept  my  word  and  come  back  at 
the  time  I  said  I  would.  Have  I  not  ?  " 

i(  Yes,  Alick,"  she  answered,  in  a  low,  meek  voice. 

"  Well,  in  order  to  keep  my  word  with  3^011,  Drusa,  I  had 
to  leave  my  business  and  come  off  in  a  great  hurry.  Do 
you  understand  ?  " 

«  Yes,  Alick." 

"  And  the  state  in  which  I  left  my  affairs  makes  it  abso 
lutely  necessary  for  me  to  go  back  to  Richmond  immedi 
ately." 

"  Yes,  Alick  dear  j  but  you  will  stay  with  me  a  day  or 
two,  at  least  ?  " 


A      SURPRISE.  321 

"  No  ;  I  came  only  to  keep  my  word  with  you.  I  must 
go  back  this  evening." 

"  Oh,  Alick  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  full  of  grief,  as 
she  let  her  work  fall  from  her  hands  and  gazed  at  him  with 
a  look  of  despair  that  she  could  not  control. 

"  Come,  come,  little  Drusa,  do  be  rational,  little  girl ! 
See  what  an  effort  I  have  made  to  keep  my  word  with  you 
— dropping  my  most  important  business  at  a  critical  junc 
ture,  just  to  come  home  and  see  you.  Now,  really,  I  do 
everything  in  the  world  I  can  to  please  you,"  he  said,  so 
earnestly  that  he  almost  persuaded  even  himself  that  he 
did. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Alick,  you  do  indeed  ;  and  you  always  have 
done  so.  What  should  I  be,  but  for  your  loving  kindness  ? 
A  poor,  desolate  orphan,  with  no  one  to  care  for  me  !  You 
are  very  good  to  me,  Alick,  and  you  always  have  been  so ; 
and  I  ought  to  be  cheerful,  as  well  as  grateful,  only  I — can 
not  always — and " 

She  could  say  no  more ;  her  voice  broke  into  sobs,  and 
she  dropped  her  face  upon  her  hands  and  wept. 

"  Humph,  this  is  the  thanks  I  get  for  travelling  several 
hundred  miles  express  to  see  you.  I  have  but  a  few  hours 
to  spend  with  you,  and  you  entertain  me  with  tears  !  Very 
encouraging  to  me  to  come  again,  I  must  say  !  "  he  angrily 
exclaimed. 

She  could  not  reply ;  her  whole  form  was  shaking  with 
her  convulsive  sobs. 

He  got  up  and  walked  about  the  room  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  whistled  an  opera  tune. 

She  tried  hard  to  suppress  her  sobs  and  to  command  her 
voice,  and  when  at  length  she  succeeded  in  doing  so,  she 
held  out  her  hands  imploringly  towards  him,  and  pleaded  : 

"  Forgive  me,  Alick.  I  could  not  help  it,  dear ;  indeed  I 
could  not.  It  was  because  I  loved  you  so.  I  love  you  so, 
Alick ! » 

20 


322  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Then  I  wish  to  the  Lord  you  didn't  love  me  '  so  ! '  that's 
all,"  he  brutally  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  Alick !  "  she  said,  still  holding  out  her  hands. 

"  It  is  a  cursed  bore  to  be  loved  ( so  ! '  "  he  repeated. 

"  Oh,  Alick,  yon  did  not  use  to  say  so  ! " 

"  Perhaps  I  thought  so,  though  !  It's  an  infernal  nui 
sance  to  be  loved  so,  I  tell  you,  and  Tin  tired  of  it !  " 

"Alick,  Alick,  you  used  to  make  me  tell  you  over  and 
over  again  how  much  I  loved  you.  You  used  to  say  I 
couldn't  love  you  too  much,  I  couldn't  even  love  you 
enough,"  she  murmured,  dropping  her  pleading  hands  upon 
her  lap. 

"  Bosh !  I  must  have  been  a  great  spoon  in  those 
days ! » 

She  did  not  reply  to  this,  but  again  covered  her  face  and 
wept  softly. 

"Besides,"  continued  this  moral  philosopher,  "such  love 
as  yours  is — what  do  they  call  it  in  the  prayer-books  ? — 
1  inordinate  affection.'  And  inordinate  affection  is  very  sin 
ful,  let  me  tell  you,  and  will  bring  its  own  punishment. 
Sooner  or  later  you  will  suffer  for  it." 

"  Oh,  I  have,  I  have  suffered  for  it,  have  I  not  ?  " 

This  wail  came  from  her  unawares,  and  the  next  moment 
she  was  sorry  for  having  let  it  escape  her,  sorry  for  the  feel 
ing  that  prompted  it ;  for  she  could  not  bear  even  in  her 
thoughts  to  blame  one  whom  she  worshipped  so  madly. 

"  Well,  if  you  have  suffered,  it  is  your  own  fault." 

"  I  know  it,  Alick — I  know  it ;  and  I  never  meant  to  say 
that  it  was  yours." 

"  Then  what  in  this  world  is  the  matter  with  you  ? 
What  do  you  need  more  than  you  have  ?  Of  what  do  you 
complain  ?  " 

"  Of  nothing,  Alick — I  complain  of  nothing.  I  am  out 
of  my  senses,  I  think." 

"  I  think  so  too.     Here  you   are  in  a  position  that  would 


A      S  U  R  PR  I  S  E  .  323 

be  envied  by  hundreds — yes,  by  thousands,  by  millions  of 
your  sex,  as  the  height  of  woman's  happiness.  You  have  a 
comfortable  and  even  an  elegant  home ;  and  I  mean  to 
settle  it  on  you  also.  You  have  a  luxurious  table,  a  splen 
did  wardrobe,  attentive  servants,  horses,  carriages — what  in 
the  world  can  you  want  in  addition  to  these  ?  " 

"  Only  a  little  more  of  my  husband's  company,  Alick," 
she  pathetically  answered. 

"  Bosh  !  You  are  a  Christian,  or  you  profess  to  be  one. 
You  read  your  Bible.  Why  don't  you  go  by  it  ?  St.  Paul 
says,  *  Having  food  and  raiment,  be  therewith  content,'  or 
words  to  that  effect.  You  have  not  only  food  and  raiment, 
but  eveiy  comfort  and  luxury  that  money  can  buy.  Why 
cannot  you  be  content  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Alick,  dear,  yes  !  I  have  all  money  can  buy.  But 
there  are  blessings  that  money  cannot  purchase.  Oil,  Alick, 
I  could  be  content  with  very  much  less  of  this  world's  goods 
than  your  wealth  has  given  me  ;  I  could  be  happy  with 
very  little  food  and  raiment,  if  only  I  had  more  of  your 
society." 

She  was  weeping  softly,  with  her  head  bowed  upon  her 
hands. 

He  was  still  walking  up  and  down  the  floor. 

Presently  she  got  up  and  met  him  with  her  hands  held 
out. 

"  Do  not  leave  me,  Alick,  dear — oh,  do  not  leave  again  so 
soon.  You  have  made  me  your  wife,  and  I  have  no  life 
but  in  you — none,  Alick,  none  !  If  you  tear  me  from  your 
heart,  I  shall  wither  and  die  like  a  plant  pulled  up  l>y  the 
roots.  Oh,  take  me  to  your  bosom  again,  for  I  have  no  life 
out  of  you  Alick — •  Alick — " 

It  was  not  in  human  nature,  at  least  not  in  a  young  man's 
nature,  to  resist  her  beauty,  her  pleading  ;  and  he  folded  her 
to  his  heart,  covered  her  face  with  kisses,  and  then  said  : 

"  Little  Drusa  !  little   Drusa !  oh,  my  dear,  dear  child  ! 


324  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

what  a  misery  for  you  that  you  should  love  me,  wretch  that 
I  am  ! " 

«  But  why,  Alick  ?  Why  ?  It  is  my  life— my  very  life  ! 
and  I  have  no  other  !  " 

"  Oh,  Drusa  !  Drusa  !  Good  Heaven  !  How  is  this  to 
end  !  I  wish  from  my  soul  you  had  never  had  the  misfor 
tune  of  meeting  me  !  " 

"  Oh,  Alick,  why  do  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ! "  he  groaned.  Then  he  answered 
evasively — "I  am  utterly  unworthy  of  you.  I  cause  you 
so  much  suffering." 

"But  that  comes  of  my  weakness,  not  of  your  fault, 
dear  Alick.  Besides  I  am  happy  now,  very  happy  now 
that  I  see  you  love  me." 

"  Little  Drusa,  did  you  ever  doubt  that  ?  " 
."I  never  doubted  your  faith,  Alick.     When  you  have 
kept  away  from  me,  I  have  doubted  my  own  worthiness  of 
your  love." 

"  My  darling,  if  you  were  sure,  entirely  sure  of  my 
affection,  could  you  then  bear  that  I  should  be  absent  from 
you  a  great  deal  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered,  honestly ;  "  I  couldn't  even  live, 
Alick.  I  couldn't  live  away  from  you,  any  more  than  a 
flower  broken  off." 

"  Oh,  my  soul !  what  will  become  of  you,  child  ?  Better 
with  your  strong  affections,  better  you  had  died  in  your 
infanc}^ !  "  he  muttered  to  himself. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Alick  ?     What  are  you  saying  ?  " 

"  I  am  thinking  of  you.  Poor  child  !  With  your  nature 
you  can  never  be  happy  in  this  world." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  can,  dear  Alick  !  It  takes  so  little  to  make 
me  happy.  Only  let  me  live  with  you  and  I  ask  no  more 
of  earth,  or  Heaven." 

"  My  darling,  I  do  believe,  I  do  believe,  if  all  other  things 
were  conforming,  you  could  also  make  me  very  happy,"  he 
said  gravely  and  tenderly. 


A      SURPRISE.  3-5 

"  I  should  try  so  zealously  to  do  it,  Alick.  I  would  never 
vex  you  with  weeping  or  moping.  Because  you  know  I 
never  did  weep  for  anything  but  your  absence  ;  and  if  I 
might  be  with  you  I  should  never  have  cause  to  weep  again. 
If  you  must  go  back  to  Richmond,  Alick,  can't  you  take  me 
with  you  ?  I  could  get  ready  in  half  an  hour,  or  in  less 
time.  And  I  wouldn't  be  troublesome  to  you  on  •  the 
journey,  indeed  I  wouldn't,  dear.  Say,  will  you  take 
me  ?  " 

"  My  little  Drusa,  it  is  impossible.  I  should  not  be  able 
to  stop  in  Eichmond  over  twenty-four  hours.  I  should 
have  to  go  into  the  country  and  travel  from  place  to  place, 
on  this  vexatious  business.  But  don't  look  so  despairing, 
darling !  I  will  not  stay  a  day  longer  than  I  can  help/"'  he 
said,  putting  her  gently  from  his  arms,  and  throwing  him 
self  down  into  a  chair  beside  her  work-table. 

She  also  resumed  her  seat.  And  she  took  up  her  needle 
work. 

"What  are  you  amusing  yourself  with,  little  Drusa? 
Dressing  dolls  ?  "  he  inquired,  taking  up  and  inspecting  the 
little,  embroidered  robe  that  lay  upon  her  lap.  "  Is  this  for 
a  great  doll !  " 

"  No,  Alick,"  she  answered,  while  a  rosy  blush  and  tender 
smile  of  joy  and  embarrassment  brightened  her  face.  "  It 
is  not  for  a  great  doll,  it  is  for  a  little  angel  who  is  coming 
to  us  soon.'7 

"  The  d — 1 !  "  exclaimed  Alexander,  invoking  his  master 
and  guide. 

She  heard  him  and  looked  up  hastily  in  surprise  and 
pain. 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  glad,  Alick,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  hem,  so  I If  I'm  not  glad,  it  is  for  you  sake, 

Drusa,"  he  said,  confusedly.  Then,  gathering  more  self- 
control,  he  added :  "  You  are  very  young,  little  Drusa,  to 
have  the  cares  of  maternity  thrust  upon  you." 


326  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Such  sweet  cares,  Alick — not  to  be  known  from  joys." 

"  But  you  are  scarcely  sixteen  years  old ! — too  young, 
too  young,  Drusa." 

"  But  if  I  was  old  enough  to  be  a  wife,  dear,  I  am  old 
enough  to  be  a  mother." 

"  You  are  too  young  to  be  either,  little  Drusa." 

"  You  didn't  use  to  think  so.  Oh,  Alick,  I  thought  you 
would  be  glad.  I  am  sorry  you  are  not." 

And  she  folded  her  little  robe  up,  and  put  it  out  of  sight. 

"  It  seems  I  cannot  open  my  lips  without  wounding  you, 
Drusa,"  he  muttered,  moodily. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Alick.  Come,  let  us  go  down.  I  want 
to  show  you  how  pretty  the  drawing-room  looks.  And  I 
want  to  show  you  the  young  birds — I  mean  the  new  broods 
of  canaries,  hatched  since  you  left,"  she  said,  cheerfully, 
rising. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIV. 

GONE    FOR    GOOD. 

One  hurried  kiss,  one  last,  one  long  embrace, 

One  yearning  look  upon  her  tearful  face. 

And  he  was  gone,  and  like  a  funeral  knell 

The  winds  still  sighed— Beloved,  fare  thee  well!— MRS.  ESLISTG. 

SUPPRESSING  all  her  mortification  and  sorrow  at  the  cold 
reception  her  husband  had  given  her  sweet  news,  Drusilla 
took  him  through  the  renovated  house  and  showed  him  all 
its  new  improvements. 

As  if  to  make  up  for  the  previous  surliness,  he  admired 
everything  he  saw  and  praised  his  little  housekeeper  for  her 
taste. 

Then  he  said  he  would  go  to  the  stable  and  look  at  the 
horses ;  and  he  asked  her  to  get  her  bonnet  and  come  with 
him. 


GONE      FOR     GOOD.  32T 

She  ran  up  stairs,  calling  Pina  to  follow  her.  And  while 
she  was  putting  on  her  thick  shoes  and  her  bonnet  and 
mantle,  she  gave  the  girl  particular  directions  about  the 
dinner.  For  as  Mr.  Lyon  had  so  short  a  time  to  stay, 
Drusilla  did  not  wish  to  leave  him  long  enough  to  pa}-  a 
visit  to  the  kitchen. 

Then  she  went  down  stairs  and  joined  her  husband.  And 
they  walked  together  to  the  stable. 

Everything  there  was  found  in  a  satisfactory  condition 
and  the  horses  were  in  fine  order.  Evidently  Leo  had 
done  his  duty,  as  well  as,  or  better  than,  so  young  a  groom 
could  be  expected  to  do  it. 

Then  Drusilla  invited  Alexander  to  walk  through  the 
ground,  that  she  might  show  him  the  new  garden  she  had 
laid  out.  And,  as  before,  he  expressed  delight  in  all  he 
saw,  and  approbation  of  her  skill  as  a  landscape  gardener. 

"  You  take  so  much  pains  to  beautify  this  place,  and  find 
so  much  pleasure  in  the  task,  that  I  hope  you  will  be  very 
happy  here,  little  Drusa,"  he  said,  as  they  turned  to  go 
back  to  the  house. 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  here,  or  anywhere  else,  dear 
Alick,  when  you  have  got  through  that  troublesome  busi 
ness  and  can  come  and  stay  at  home  with  me,"  she  replied. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  made  no  answer.  She 
did  not  see  his  questionable  gesture,  so  she  continued : 

"  For  indeed,  Alick,  you  and  I  live  now  more  like  mere 
acquaintances  than  like  a  married  couple.  And  you  seem 
less  the  master  of  the  house  than  the  occasional  guest  of  the 
mistress." 

He  laughed  at  this  conceit,  and  then  sighed  as  he  re 
plied  : 

"I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  helped,  little  Drusa.  I  wish 
it  could  be,  in  some  way.  Heaven  knows  how  it  pains  me 
to  part  with  you." 

And  Mr.  Al:ck  thought  of  Joe  Smith  and  the  Mormon 


328  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Bible  and  wished  that  one  had  been  a  true  prophet  and  the 
other  a  divine  revelation. 

"  Oh,  dear  Aliek,  it  is  selfish  in  me,  I  know,  but  I  am 
glad  it  pains  you  to  part  with  me  ;  arid  I  hope  it  may  hurt 
3^ou  so  badly  that  you  may  not  be  able  to  stay  away,"  said 
Drusilla,  with  a  sweet  smile. 

"  Ah,  little  Drusa  !  however  distressing  it  may  be  to  me 
to  absent  myself  from  you,  I  must  do  so  when  duty  requires 
the  sacrifice,"  sighed  Alexander,  piously.  Then,  to  change 
the  subject,  he  inquired — "  You  have  seen  nothing  more  of 
the  face  at  the  window,  little  Drusa  ?  " 

"  No,  nothing  at  all.  But  then  the  windows,  since  you 
left,  have  always  at  nightfall  been  closed  and  curtained,"  she 
answered. 

"  Nor  heard  anything  of  the  man  lurking  about  here  ?  " 

"  NOJ  not  a  w^ord." 

"  Nor  gained  any  clue  to  his  identity  ?  " 

"No,  none." 

"  Then  you  have  not  been  annoyed  by  any  such  intrusion 
since  I  left  you  ?  " 

"No,  not  by  any." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  little  Drusa." 

As  he  spoke  she  recollected  the  disorderly  party  who  had 
followed  her  carriage  from  the  city  ;  and  thought  that  truth 
required  her  to  mention  the  circumstance,  so  she  added  : 

"  Oh,  Alick,  yes.  I  didn't  write  to  you  about  it,  because 
I  knew  it  would  only  make  you  anxious  to  no  good  purpose, 
and  besides  I  only  wished  to  write  you  good  news — 

"What  now,  Drusa?  What  is  it?  What  have  you 
been  keeping  from  me,  it  is  very  wrong  for  you  to  keep  any 
secret  from  me,  let  me  tell  you,"  anxiously  exclaimed  Alex 
ander,  looking  searchingly  in  her  face. 

"  Oh,  Alick,  it  was  no  secret  at  all.  It  was  only  a  little 
rudeness  I  was  made  to  bear." 

"  Kudei  ess  !     From  whom  ?  " 


GONE      FOR     GOOD.  329 

"From  people  who  were  scarcely  respons.ble  for  their 
actions,  Alick." 

"  Who  were  they  ?  What  rudeness  did  they  offer 
you  ?  » 

"  You  remember  those  officers  that  came  into  our  box  at 
the  opera  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  vagabonds !  vulgar  wretches  !  what  about 
them  ?  " 

"  They  saw  me  in  at  a  Ladies'  Tea  Room  in  the  city,  one 
day  when  I  went  shopping." 

"  In  a  Ladies'  Tea  Room  !  Drusilla,  I  am  shocked  that 
you  should  have  gone  into  such  a  place  unattended.  I  am 
annoyed  beyond  measure  that  you  should  have  done  so  ! 
No  modest  young  woman,  not  to  say  lady,  ever  goes  alone 
to  such  a  place  ! " 

"Alick  dear,  it  was  the  very  room  you  used  to  take  me 
to,  whenever  you  took  me  to  the  city  in  the  first  days  of 
our  marriage.  And  I  saw  ladies  there  and  young  ladies 
and  little  girls,  and  even  babies  and  nurses — and  one  always 
feels  right  and  safe  where  there  are  babies,  you  know." 

"  No ;  I  don't  know  it.  And  besides  the  ladies  and 
children  you  speak  of  were  family  parties  ;  you  went  alone  ; 
no  wonder  you  were  insulted.  Which  of  the  villains 
insulted  you — or  did  both  ?  " 

"  Neither  did,  Alick  dear.  Please  don't  be  angry.  One 
of  the  officers  came  up  and  spoke  to  me,  calling  me  '  Miss ' 
and  claiming  my  acquaintance.  But  as  you  had  not  intro 
duced  him  to  me  I  would  not  know  him." 

"And— then?" 

"  I  left  the  Tea  Room  and  got  into  the  carriage  and  drove 
home." 

"  And  was  that  all  ?  " 

"  No  ;  the  two  officers  and  the  two  women  that  were  with 
them  jumped  into  a  hack  and  followed  me." 

"  Ten  thousand  demons  ! — Home  ?  "  burst  forth  Mr. 
Lyon. 


330  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Ah,  Alick  dear,  no ;  don't  be  so  violent.  There  was  no 
harm  d:me.  I  wouldn't  even  have  mentioned  the  matter, 
only  you  asked  me  a  question  that  I  was  hound  to  answer 
truthfully,"  pleaded  the  gentle  creature. 

"  How  far  did  they  follow  you  ?  " 

"  Only  to  the  gate  of  the  road  leading  through  the  woods 
to  our  house — " 

"  To  our — "  Here  Alexander  hurst  into  an  explosion  of 
oaths  and  expletives  that  caused  his  wife  to  shudder  with 
horror. 

"  Oh,  Alick,  Alick,  don't,  dear  !  don't !  It  is  a  sin  !  Oh, 
Alick,  hush  !  You  frighten  me  so  !  "  she  pleaded  almost 
breathlessly,  clinging  to  his  arm. 

"  If  I  catch  one  of  those  villains  I  will  blow  his  brains 
out.  If  I  don't,  may  the — "  And  here  Alexander  sealed 
his  oath  by  invoking  a  terrible  imprecation  011  his  own  soul 
if  he  failed  to  keep  it. 

"  Oh,  my  love,  my  dear,  don't,  don't.  Heaven  will  never 
forgive  you  !  "  wept  Drusilla. 

"  Stop  whimpering,  you  provoking  little  fool,  and  tell  me. 
Did  they  attempt  to  follow  you  through  the  gate  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Alick,  but  they  couldn't  do  it,  because  Leo  closed 
it  and  locked  it — " 

"  Oh  !  let  me  only  lay  my  eyes  on  them — that  is  all  !  If 
they  get  off  with  life  may  I  be " 

"  Hsh-sh  !     Oh,  Alick,  dear,  this  is  awful !  " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  and  take  your  hand  from  my  lips  ! 
And  now,  if  you  can  speak  to  some  purpose,  do  so  !  How 
long  was  this  ago  that  they  dared  to  pursue  you  ?  " 

"  About  nine  days  since,  Alick.  But  they  scarcely  knew 
what  they  were  about.  Indeed  they  did  not,  Alick  love !  " 

"  Have  they  troubled  you  since  ?  " 

"No,  not  once.  I  have  neither  seen  nor  heard  of  them 
since,  nor  has  any  one  else  annoyed  me." 

u  That  is  well  so  far.     But  now  I  am  convinced  that  one 


GONE      FOR      GOOD.  331 

of  those  villains  was  identical  with  the  spy  who  frightened 
you  by  looking  through  the  window.  I  wish  I  had  not  to 
hurry  back  to  Richmond  to-night.  If  I  could  only  remain 
in  the  city  one  day,  I  might  settle  accounts  with  these  gen 
tlemen  !  " 

"  Oh,  Alick,  then  for  the  first  time  I  am — what  I  never 
thought  I  should  be — glad  that  you  are  going  away  so  soon  ! 
Ah,  my  own  dear  husband,  absence  is  bitter,  but  not  so  bitter 
as  sin  and  its  consequences  !  Oh,  my  dear,  dear  Alick, 
I  shall  pray  day  and  night  that  Heaven  may  keep  you  from 
blood  guiltiness." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  house,  which  they 
soon  entered. 

But  Alick  did  not  get  over  his  fit  of  fury  until  some 
hours  later,  when  dinner  was  served  and  he  had  eaten  a 
hearty  meal,  and  drank  several  glasses  of  fine  wine,  and 
was  luxuriating  in  the  sedative  vapors  of  a  real  Havana. 

The  fragrant  fumes  of  the  good  cigar  did  not  drive  Dru- 
silla  away.  She  sat  near  him  with  a  little  piece  of  crochet 
work  in  her  fingers. 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  me  one  thing,  Drusa,"  said 
Alick,  taking  the  weed  from  his  lips. 

"I  will  promise  you  anything  in  the  world,"  she 
answered. 

"  I  dare  say  !     But  would  you  perform  it  ?  " 

«  Yes,  indeed,  Alick." 

"  If  you  could." 

"Oh,  of  course  that  is  understood'!  Providence  permit 
ting,  I  will  do  whatever  you  wish." 

"  Well,  the  promises  I  wish  you  to  make  me  will  not  be 
very  hard  to  keep.  In  the  first  place,  I  want  you  to  give 
me  your  word  that  you  will  not  go  into  Washington  unless 
in  case  of  necessity." 

"You  have  my  word  for  that,  Alick." 

"And  wlnn  obliged  to  go,  that  you  will  show  yourself 


832  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

as  little  as  possible ;  that  you  will  never  recognize  or 
speak  with  any  acquaintance,  old  or  new,  whom  you  may 
happen  to  meet." 

"  I  give  you  my  word  for  these  also,  Alick." 

"  And  that  you  will  never  under  any  circumstances 
whatever,  or  to  any  person  whoever,  give  your  name  or 
address,  or  mine." 

"Take  my  word  for  that,  too.  I  promise — solemnly 
promise  to  remember  and  obey  all  your  directions,  Alick." 

"  That  is  right,"  he  said.  And  he  resumed  his  cigar, 
and  smoked  in  comfort  for  some  minutes,  and  then  threw 
away  the  stump,  and  got  up,  saying : 

"  I  must  see  about  going." 

"Oh,  Alick  !     So  soon,  dear!"  she  exclaimed,  in  dismay. 

"  So  soon  ?  Why,  it  is  seven  o'clock  now,  and  the  boat 
leaves  at  nine.  I  have  but  two  hours  to  get  it." 

"  Leo  can  drive  you  there  easily  in  one  hour,  Alick. 
The  horses  are  quite  fresh,  and  will  go  like  the  wind.  And 
besides,  I  want  you  to  take  tea  with  me  before  you  leave," 
she  said,  touching  the  bell. 

"  Well,  I  can  take  a  cup  of  tea  while  Leo  is  putting  the 
horses  to  the  carriage,  I  suppose,"  he  admitted,  resuming 
his  seat. 

Pina  came  in  to  answer  the  bell. 

Drusilla  told  her  to  set  the  table  for  tea.  And  Mr. 
Lyon  directed  her  to  tell  Leo  to  put  the  horses  to  the  car 
riage  and  bring  it  around  to  the  door,  and  to  get  himself 
ready  to  drive  to  town. 

Pina  went  out  to  obey  both  her  orders. 

"  You  will  not  be  long  absent  this  time,  will  you, 
Alick  ?  "  inquired  Drusilla. 

"  I  do  not  know,  Drusa ;  but  not  a  day  longer  than  is 
necessary,"  he  evasively  replied. 

"  But — can't  you  give  me  some  little  idea,  Alick,  just  to 
comfort  me  while  you  are  away?  Will  you  be  gone  a 


GONE     FOR      GOOD.  333 

week,  ten  days,  a  fortnight — or  how  long  do  you  think, 
dearAlick?" 

"  Now,  Drusa,  my  child,  you  must  not  seek  to  bind  me 
by  any  promise  to  return  at  any  fixed  time.  See  how  it 
has  inconvenienced  me  on  this  occasion,  and  without  giving 
you  much  gratification  either.  Here,  because  I  felt  bound 
by  the  promise  I  had  given  you,  I  was  compelled  to  drop 
my  business  at  a  most  important  crisis,  and  hurry  on  here 
just  to  see  you  for  a  few  hours,  and  then  hurry  back.  If 
you  had  not  bound  me  by  that  promise,  I  might  possibly, 
by  staying  a  few  days  longer  in  Richmond,  and  putting  my 
business  in  a  better  state  of  progress,  have  been  enabled  to 
come  and  stay  longer  with  you.  But  as  it  is,  I  must  be  off 
at  once.  So  you  see  the  evil  of  binding  a  man  to  any 
fixed  time.'7 

"Yes,  Alick.  I  don't  wish  to  bind  you  to  anything, 
dear.  I  will  only  trust  that  you  will  come  back  to  me  as 
soon  as  you  can,"  she  meekly  replied. 

"  As  soon  as  it  shall  be  proper  to  do  so,  I  will  come 
back,"  he  answered  evasively. 

Pina  came  in  and  set  the  table,  and  brought  in  the  tea 
service  and  arranged  it. 

They — the  faithful  wife  and  faithless  husband  sat  down 
together  for  the  last  time  at  that  table. 

She  filled  his  cup  and  handed  it  to  him,  and  urged  upon 
him  the  delicate  dainties  that  she  had  prepared  for  him. 

And  Alick,  whose  appetite  seldom  suffered  under  any 
circumstances,  enjoyed  the  luxuries  of  the  tea-table  as  much 
as  if  he  had  not  dined  sumptuously  a  few  hours  previous. 

But  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  carriage  approaching  the 
door,  he  got  up,  went  into  the  hall,  followed  by  Drusilla. 

Here  he  put  on  his  overcoat  and  gloves,  snatched  his  wife 
to  his  bosom  for  one  hasty  embrace  and  adieu  ;  then  took 
his  hat,  ran  out  of  the  house,  jumped  into  the  carriage,  and 
ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  fast  towards  town. 


334  THE      C  TT  A  X  G  E  T>      BRIDES. 

The  carriage  started. 

And  this  time  Alexander  was  gone  for  good. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

CRUEL    TREACHERY. 

And  be  these  juggling  fiends  no  more  believed, 
That  palter  with  us  in  a  double  sense ; 
That  keep  the  word  of  promise  to  the  ear 
And  break  it  to  the  hope.— SHAKSPEAKE. 

ALEXAXDER  had  come  and  gone  like  a  dream.  And,  in 
truth,  his  flying  visit  had  given  his  young  wife  little 
comfort.  He  had  spent  more  than  half  the  few  hours  he 
had  passed  at  home  in  grumbling. 

As  usual,  she  could  not  find  it  in  her  heart  to  blame  him. 
To  keep  up  her  spirits,  she  set  about  putting  in  order  her 
little  house  that  had  been  somewhat  disarranged  by  his 
sudden  arrival  and  departure.  In  the  words  of  another 
wronged  woman,  she  was  "  resigned,  but  not  happy." 

Her  days  passed  quietly,  if  not  cheerfully.  She  occupied 
herself  with  her  small  household  affairs  ;  with  making  up 
the  pretty  liliputian  wardrobe  upon  which  she  was  en 
gaged  ;  with  taking  care  of  her  birds  ;  and  with  gardening, 
walking  and  riding  during  the  day. 

She  spent  her  evenings  in  reading  and  writing,  or  sing 
ing  and  playing. 

She  was  comforted  with  three  sweet  hopes  :  the  first  was 
for  his  letters,  the  second  his  return,  and  the  third  the  ar 
rival  of  the  little  stranger. 

She  arose  with  the  earliest  dawn  of  day,  and  she  re 
tired  early  in  the  evening,  and  so  her  health  continued  to 
improve. 

But  day  succeeded  day,  until  a  week  had  passed  away, 


CRUEL     TKEACHERY.  335 

and  still  she  received  no  letter  from  her  absent  husband. 
Then  she  grew  weary  and  sad. 

The  truth  is  that  Alexander,  with  a  false  mercy  in  keep 
ing  with  his  false  course  at  this  time,  was  putting  into 
practice  his  sapient  plan  of  "  breaking  with  her  gradually," 
which  was  just  distilling  to  her,  drop  by  drop,  the  bitter 
ness  of  "  despised  love  ; "  inflicting  on  her  the  intolerable 
torture  of  a  slow  heart-breaking. 

After  ten  days  had  gone  by  she  received  a  note  from 
him  ;  it  was  short,  cool  and  dry.  He  said  that  he  had 
reached  Kichmond  in  safety,  but  had  been  too  busy  to  write 
before  ;  that  he  was  well  and  hoped  she  was  ;  and  that  he 
remained  her  affectionate — "  A."  There  were  not  half  a 
dozen  lines  in  the  whole  letter,  and  Drusilla  thought  the 
writing  did  not  look  like  Alexander's  hand.  B-ut  she  read 
it  over  and  over  again,  and  her  tears  dropped  slowly  down 
upon  it  as  she  mu-rmured : 

"  •  Too  busy  to  write  '  to  me — '  too  busy  to  write.'  Oh, 
Alick,  dear,  what  sort  of  business  would  it  be  that  could 
keep  me  from  writing  to  you  for  ten  whole  days  ?  But, 
then,  I  am  a  woman  and  you  are  a  man,  and  that  makes  all 
the  difference,  I  suppose.  But,  oh,  my  heart  is  so  weak — 
so  weak,  my  Heavenly  Father*!  "  she  cried,  suddenly,  in 
her  sorrow,  appealing  to  the  All  Compassionate. 

And  then  again  she  betook  herself  to  work  as  an  antidote 
to  despair. 

After  this  a  heart-sickening  month  of  silence  passed 
away,  in  which  she  heard  no  word  from  him.  And  then 
she  got  a  second  note,  dated  from  some  distant  village  in 
New  England,  from  which  he  wrote  to  tell  her  that  he  had 
been  travelling  for  the  last  four  weeks,  and  he  was  travelling 
still  upon  that  business  growing  out  of  his  father's  will ; 
that  it  would  be  useless  for  her  to  write  to  him,  as  he  was 
continually  moving  rapidly  from  place  to  place,  and  could 
not  wait  to  receive  her  letters.  His  health  continued  good, 


336  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

and  he  hoped  that  hers  did.  And  he  was  ever  her  friend 
— «  A." 

This  letter  filled  less  than  half  a  page,  and  the  writing 
was  even  less  like  Alexander's  than  that  of  the  other  one 
had  been.  And  Drusilla  wept  bitterly  over  it. 

"  If  I  were  not  his  wife,  I  should  think  he  was  deserting 
me  by  degrees,"  she  sobbed,  hitting  at  last  the  very  truth. 

In  addition  to  all  her  other  causes  of  distress,  she  had  the 
bitterness  of  knowing  that  he  had  not  waited  to  get  one  of 
the  affectionate  daily  letters  she  had  directed  to  him  at 
Kichmond ;  that  they  were  all  wasted,  like  her  love,  because 
he  had  not  even  taken  the  trouble  to  tell  her  that  he  was 
going  to  travel. 

And  now  one  word  about  Alexander's  duplicity,  which  he 
called  discretion.  (If  people  could  be  got  to  call  crimes  by 
their  right  names,  perhaps  they  would  not  commit  them.) 
When  Alexander  was  at  home,  having  access  to  all  Dru- 
silla's  boxes,  he  secretly  got  possession  of  all  the  letters  he 
had  ever  written  to  her  and  he  destroyed  them.  His  first 
subsequent  letter  was  written  from  Richmond,  to  which  he 
had  come  with  his  uncle  and  cousin  for  a  sojourn  of  a  few 
days  previous  to  setting  out  with  them  on  a  tour  of  pleasure. 
His  second  one  was  from  a  hamlet  in  the  Green  Mountains, 
where  he  was  staying  with  the  General  and  Miss  Anna,  in 
these  first  warm  days  of  July.  Both  letters  were  written 
in  a  disguised  hand,  and  signed  only  with  his  initial,  lest 
they  should  ever  be  brought  up  against  him. 

Some  suspicion  of  his  bad  faith  was  forcing  its  way 
even  into  the  confiding  bosom  of  his  wife.  But  the  heart- 
wasting  weariness  of  the  next  few  weeks,  who  can  tell  ? 
To  keep  her  heart  from  breaking,  she  kept  steadily  at  work. 
Ah,  work  !  How  great  is  the  love  of  our  Heavenly  Father 
in  commuting  the  very  curse  laid  upon  man  at  his  fall  into 
blessings ;  in  infusing  into  the  very  punishment  of  his  sins 
consolation  for  his  suffering.  For  surely,  in  addition  to  its 


CRUEL     TREACHERY.  337 

creative  and  productive  force,  work  has  consoling  power, 
since,  next  after  religion,  it  is  to  the  desolate  and  weary- 
hearted  the  greatest  comfort  on  earth. 

Drusilla  found  it  so  ;  for,  if  occupation  did  not  give 
her  happiness,  it  certainly  kept  her  from  despair.  The 
months  rolled  slowly  on.  One  of  the  most  distressing 
elements  in  her  misery  was  the  fact  she  could  not  even 
write  to  her  husband,  not  knowing  where  to  direct  her  let 
ters  ;  and  this  was  farther  embittered  by  the  knowledge 
that  he  himself  had  cut  off  all  such  communication  between 
them. 

Still  she  continued  to  send  Leo  daily  to  the  post-office  in 
the  hope  of  getting  a  letter  from  him ;  but  week  after 
week  wore  away  without  bringing  news  of  Alexander. 

In  the  .hope  of  hearing  of  him,  if  she  could  not  hear 
from  him,  she  wrote  and  ordered  the  principal  daily  papers 
from  all  the  great  cities  in  the  north.  And  huge 
was  the  bundle  that  Leo  brought  every  day  from  the 
news  agent  in  Washington. 

And  when  she  was  disappointed  in  getting  a  letter,  as 
she  was  always  sure  to  be,  she  would,  with  a  morbid 
eagerness,  carefully  con  over  the  names  in  the  list  of 
arrivals  at  the  various  hotels  in  all  the  cities-,  in  the  faint 
hope  of  seeing  his  name  in  some  one  of  them. 

But  this  was  worse  than  "  hunting  for  a  needle  in  a 
haystack,"  for  it  was  hunting  for  what  was  lost  some 
where  else." 

Sometimes  in  fear  and  trembling  she  would  even  look 
over  the  deaths  and  the  casualties,  in  the  dread  of  seeing 
his  name  among  the  victims.  But  she  never  saw  it  any 
where.  We  could  have  told  her,  "  Naught  is  never  in 
danger."  If  she  did  not  see  the  name  of  her  truant  hus 
band,  she  saw  something  else  that  startled  her,  and  it  was 
this  : 

21 


338  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

NEXT  OF  KIN. — If  the  heirs  of  the  late  Reverend  Maloomb 
Sterling  should  see  this  advertisement  they  will  please  to  commu 
nicate  immediately  with  the  undersigned,  from  whom  they  will 
hear  something  to  their  advantage.  KENT  &  HENEAGE, 

Solicitors,  33  Bar  street,  Baltimore. 

Drusilla  stared  at  this  notice  in  astonishment.  And 
then  she  read  it  over  again  two  or  three  times.  She 
was  the  only  living  representative  of  the  late  Malcomb 
Sterling.  Her  father's  last  pastoral  charge  had  been  in 
Baltimore.  This  advertisement  appeared  in  a  Baltimore 
paper,  and  the  firm  to  be  communicated  with  were  Balti 
more  lawyers.  Clearly  the  notice  originated  with  some  one 
who  had  taken  pains  to  trace  her  poor  father's  last  abiding 
place,  in  order  to  advertise  there  for  his  heirs.  It  must, 
therefore,  be  of  considerable  importance. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  cut  out  the  piece  and  enclose  it 
in  a  letter  to  her  husband,  that  he  might  deal  with  it  as  he 
should  deem  proper.  But  then  she  instantly  recollected 
that  she  was  ignorant  of  Mr.  Lyoii's  address. 

After  a  little  reflection  she  concluded  that  it  was  her  own 
duty  to  communicate  with  the  advertising  parties. 

So  she  sat  down  and  wrote  to  the  firm  of  Kent  & 
Heneage,  and  told  them  that  she  was  the  only  child  of  the 
late  Reverend  Malcomb  Sterling,  by  his  wife  Anna. 

She  sent  off  this  letter ;  and  soon  forgot  all  about  the 
matter  in  her  all-engrossing  anxiety  to  hear  from  her  hus 
band. 

As  before,  she  every  day  sent  Leo  to  the  post  office,  with 
orders  if  he  should  find  a  letter  by  the  first  mail  to  hasten 
home  with  it  immediately ;  if  not,  to  wait  for  the  second 
mail. 

On  a  fresh  and  brilliant  morning  of  the  third  day  after 
she  had  written  to  the  lawyers,  Drusilla  was  at  work  in  her 
flower-garden,  when  she  saw  Leo  galloping  toward  the 
house,  and  holding  out  at  arm's  length  a  letter. 

The  face  of  the  boy,  who  had  seen   and  understood  his 


CRUEL     TREACHERY.  339 

mistress's  daily  disappointment,  was  beaming  with  delight, 
as  he  drew  rein  before  her,  sprang  from  his  saddle,  and 
handed  her  the  letter. 

She  seized  it  eagerly,  believing  it  to  be  from  her  husband, 
and  exclaimed  in  her  joy  : 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Leo  !  At  last— at  last !  Oh,  I'm  so 
glad  !  » 

"  '  Deed,  so  am  I,  ma'am — glad  as  if  I'd  had  a  fbrtin  left 
me,"  answered  the  boy,  showing  in  every  tone  and  look  as 
much  sympathy  as  he  could  combine  with  very  much 
respect,  "  which  it  is  from  master,  ma'am,  and  I  hope  he  is 
well  ?  " 

But  the  little  lady's  face  had  fallen.  The  letter  was  not 
from  her  beloved  husband,  announcing  his  speedy  arrival. 
It  was  ou\y  from  the  firm  of  Kent  &  Heneage,  and  it  only 
informed  her  of  her  inheritance  of  a  vast  estate,  by  the 
decease  of  a  bachelor  great-uncle,  who  was  a  merchant  of 
San  Francisco  with  a  corresponding  house  in  Baltimore, 
and  who  had  recently  died  intestate  in  the  first  mentioned 
city. 

This  news  would  have  made  some  women  very  happy. 
But  not  Drusilla.  The  reaction  with  her  was  great.  Tears 
of  disappointment  swelled  her  eyelids,  and  dropped  upon  the 
open  page. 

Leo,  who  was  watching  her  in  reverential  interest,  seeing 
her  tears,  now  spoke  : 

"  I  hope  nothing  is  amiss  with  master,  ma'am  ! " 

"  No — I  don't  know.  Oh,  Leo  !  it  is  not  from  youi  mas 
ter  ;  it  is  nothing  but  a  mere  business  letter  from  a  law 
yer  !"  said  the  little  lady,  with  a  sigh. 

"Is  that  all,  ma'am?"  responded  the  boy  in  a  disap 
pointed  tone. 

"  All,  Leo,"  his  mistress  answered,  as  she  turned  sadly 
towards  the  house. 

She  did  not  care  a  farthing  for  the  death  or  the  inherit- 


340  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

ance  of  the  old  bachelor  uncle,  of  whom  she  had  not  heard 
mention  made  more  than  three  times  in  her  life,  and  who, 
while  he  was  rolling  in  wealth,  had  left  her  dying  father, 
her  mother  and  herself  to  suffer  the  bitterest  pains  of  pov 
erty. 

She  neglected  to  answer  the  lawyer's  letter,  and  gave 
herself  up  to  grief  and  anxiety  about  her  careless  but  still 
beloved  husband,  until  a  week  had  passed  away,  when  she 
received  another,  and  a  very  urgent  letter  from  Messrs. 
.Kent  &  Heneage,  asking  to  hear  from  her  by  return  mail. 

This  one  she  immediately  answered.  And  this  was  the 
beginning  of  a  long  epistolary  correspondence  between  Dru- 
silla  and  Kent  &  Heneage  of  Baltimore,  and  Speight  & 
Wright  of  San  Francisco.  In  the  course  of  this  corres 
pondence  the  heiress  learned  that  both  those  legal  firms 
had  been  the  solicitors  of  her  uncle,  the  millionaire,  and 
that  the  first  had  managed  his  business  in  Baltimore,  and 
the  last  in  San  Francisco ;  that  the  whole  estate,  compris 
ing  the  property  in  both  cities,  was  estimated  at  three 
millions  of  dollars,  and  consisted  in  warehouses,  shipping 
goods,  and  bank  stock.  But  she  was  also  advised  that  she 
would  be  required  to  prove  her  identity,  and  establish  every 
link  in  the  chain  of  evidence  that  connected  her  with  her 
uncle  before  she  could  take  possession  of  the  property. 
And  Messrs.  Kent  &  Heneage  tendered  her  the  help  of  all 
their  legal  skill,  learning  and  experience,  in  establishing  her 
claims. 

Young  as  she  was,  Drusilla  saw  at  once  that  there  would 
be  no  difficulty  in  proving  herself  the  lawful  heiress  of  the 
deceased  Croesus.  So  she  wrote  to  the  lawyers  that  the 
genealogical  line  to  be  traced  was  very  plain,  short  and 
straight ;  that  every  point  in  its  progress  could  be  proved 
by  church  registers,  court  records,  private  letters,  and  per 
sonal  friends. 

Then  the  firm  wrote  to  her  requesting  a  personal  inter- 


CRUEL     TREACHERY.  341 

view,  and- offering  either  to  receive  her  at  their  office  in 
Baltimore,  or  to  visit  her  -at  her  own  home  in  Wash 
ington. 

And  here  arose  Drusilla's  first  difficulty.  She  had  dated 
her  letters,  not  from  Cedarwood,  but  simply  from  Wash 
ing-ton  City,  and  though  she  had  signed  them  Drusilla 
Sterling  Lyon,  she  had  not  said  one  word  about  her  state 
as  a  married  woman,  thus  unconsciously  leaving  it  to  be 
assumed  that  she  was  a  widow,  acting  upon  her  own  re 
sponsibility.  She  could  not  write  of  her  marriage,  because 
it  had  been  her  husband's  will  that  it  should  be  kept  secret 
from  all  but  the  faithful  servants  who  were  in  their  confi 
dence.  And  for  this  cause,  also,  she  could  neither  visit  the 
lawyers  at  their  office,  nor  receive  them,  at  her  house.  She 
was  puzzled  how  to  act. 

"  Oh,  Alick,  Alick,  dear,"  she  sighed,  as  she  read  over 
again  the  lawyers  letter ;  "  Oh,  Alick,  darling,  how  your 
long  absence  and  this  forced  secresy  does  constantly  com 
promise  me.  I  find  myself  in  a  cruelly  false  position. 
What  shall  I  do  now?  Wait  till  I  see  you  before  I  take 
another  step  in  this  matter  ?  That  is  what  I  must  do." 

And  she  sat  down  and  wrote  to  Messrs.  Kent  & 
Heneage,  telling  them  that  it  was  not  just  at  present  con 
venient  for  her  to  leave  home,  or  to  receive  visitors,  but 
that  she  hoped  it  might  be  so  in  a  few  weeks. 

"  And  this  looks  veiy  like  a  subterfuge,"  she  said  to  her 
self  as  she  revised  her  own  lines.  "And  what  will  they 
think  of  me  for  putting  them  off  in  this  foolish  way? 
Think  me  an  impostor  as  likely  as  not.  And  who  can 
wonder  if  they  do  ?  Oh,  Alick  !  Alick  !  " 

She  sent  her  letter  off,  and  for  a  week  or  ten  days,  she 
heard  no  more  of  her  legal  friends.  This  correspondence, 
embarrassing  as  it  was  to  her,  and  difficult  as  it  was  for  her 
to  manage,  upon  account  of  her  false  position  as  a  secretly 
wedded  wife,  had  nevertheless  done  her  good,  in  distract- 


342  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

ing  her  thoughts  from  the  intense  grief  and  anxiety  she 
had  suffered  from  the  long  absence  and  total  silence  of 
her  husband. 

Meanwhile,  the  summer  wore  wearily  away.  On  the  first 
of  September,  she  received  another  letter  from  her  new  legal 
acquaintances,  praying  her  no  longer  to  neglect  so  impor 
tant  a  manner  as  the  establishment  of  her  claims  to  the 
heirship  of  the  great  Sterling  property. 

Amid  painful  feelings  of  shame  that  she  might  not  speak 
out  plainly,  that  she  must  be  secretive  and  seem  deceitful, 
she  penned  a  reply,  asking  the  lawyer's  pardon  for  having 
appeared  neglectful ;  beseeching  them  yet  to  have  a  little 
patience  with  her ;  telling  them  that  circumstances  which 
she  could  not  at  present  command,  precluded  her  from  pro 
ceeding  farther  in  this  matter;  but  expressing  an  earnest 
hope  that  in  a  short  time  she  might  be  able  to  do  so.  She 
begged  to  assure  them  that  as  she  was  truly  the  lawful 
heiress  of  her  deceased  uncle,  Charles  Sterling,  being  the 
only  surviving  descendant  of  his  only  brother,  and  he  hav 
ing  left  no  other  kindred,  so  her  claim  to  the  estate  could 
not  fail  to  be  established ;  and  that  when  it  should  be,  she 
begged  them  to  believe,  that  they  should  find  that  their 
time  and  labor,  and  kind  interest  in  her  affairs,  had  not 
been  thrown  away. 

There  was  a  simple,  earnest  truthfulness  and  good  feel 
ing  in  this  other  mystifying  letter,  that  must  have  carried 
conviction  of  the  writer's  good  faith  even  to  the  unbelieving 
legal  mind.  For  within  three  days,  Drusilla  received  an 
answer  from  the  firm,  saying  that  they  regretted  the  delay 
upon  her  own  account,  but  would  wait  her  pleasure  and 
convenience. 

And  so  this  correspondence  ceased  for  the  time  being. 

September  passed  slowly  away,  without  bringing  any 
letter  from  Mr.  Lyon.  And  oh,  in  what  weariness,  heavi 
ness,  sorrow  and  soreness  of  heart,  it  passed  with  the 


CRUEL     TREACHERY.  343 

young  neglected  wife,  who  can  describe,  or  even  imagine  ? 
She  was  almost  dying  of  hope  deferred.  A  fatal  suspicion 
of  her  husband's  falsehood  was  slowly,  but  surely,  eating 
its  way  into  her  heart  and  life.  And  still  the  bitterest  ele 
ment  in  her  sorrow  was  the  fact  that  she  could  make  no 
appeal  to  any  remaining  tenderness  he  might  have  for  her, 
not  even  knowing  where  to  write  to  him. 

October  came,  and  then, — 

"  When  hope  was  coldest,  and  despair  most  deep," 
a  letter  arrived  from  Alexander.  She  was  that  evening 
sitting  and  shivering,  not  from  cold,  but  from  nervousness, 
over  a  bright  little  fire  in  her  dressing-room,  when  Pin  a 
ran  in,  without  the  ceremony  of  rapping,  and  exclaimed, 
breathlessly : 

"  It's  Leo,  ma'am,  which  he's  just  brung  a  letter  from 
the  post-office,  as  he  says  must  be  from  master,  because 
it's  got  Kichmond  printed  onto  it,  and  he  can  read 
print,  though  not  writing.  And  he  says  how  he'll  bring 
the  letter  in  and  put  it  into  your  hands  himself,  and 
here  he  is — " 

Before  Pina  had  finished  half  her  speech,  Brasilia  had 
jumped  up  and  run  to  meet  Leo. 

As  he  entered  the  room,  with  his  face  beaming  with 
pleasure,  she  snatched  the  letter  from  his  grasp,  tore  it 
open  and  devoured  its  contents. 

Ah !  poor  child  !  little  comfort  that  long-looked  for 
letter  brought  her.  It  was  shorter,  drier  and  colder  than 
any  that  had  gone  before  it.  Alexander  vouchsafed  not  one 
word  of  excuse  for  his  long  silence.  He  announced  his 
arrival  at  Kichmond  ;  and  told  her  that  he  could  not  with 
propriety  pay  her  a  visit  that  autumn,  for  reasons  that  he 
would  explain  to  her  in  a  subsequent  letter  ;  he  hoped  that 
she  was  in  as  good  health  and  spirits  as  he  begged  to  assure 
her  that  he  himself  was  ;  and  he  subscribed  himself  her 
friend  and  well  wisher,  "  A." 


344  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Drusilla  dropped  the  letter,  and  burst  into  a  passion  of 
sobs  and  tears,  that  much  alarmed  her  loving  servants. 

They  thought  no  less  than  that  their  master  had  met 
with  a  fatal  accident,  or  was  smitten  with  a  deathly  disorder, 
if  he  was  not  already  dead  and  buried. 

They  tried  to  help  and  comfort  her. 

Leo  went  and  brought  her  a  glass  of  ice-water. 

Pina  poured  some  Florida  water  upon  a  handkerchief  and 
offered  her,  saying  caressingly  : 

"  Oh,  mist'ess,  dear,  don't  take  on  so.  It's  the  Lord's 
will,  you  know." 

"It  is  NOT,  Pina!  The  sin  of  man  is  NOT  the  will  of 
God  !"  passionately  broke  forth  the  long-suffering  soul.  „ 

"  Oh,  mist'ess,  dear,  'scuse  me.  I  didn't  know  'twas  sin. 
I  thought  'twas  only  sickness,  or  something." 

"I — hush  ! — I  spoke  hastily — I  spoke  without  thinking. 
There,  Pina,  that  will  do.  Thank  you,  child.  Go,  leave 
me  now;  I  am  better  by  myself;  do  go.  Leo,  take  her 
away,"  with  difficulty  gasped  Drusilla. 

And  when  she  had  got  her  servants  out  of  the  room  and 
bolted  the  door,  she  threw  herself  into  her  chair  and  gave 
free  vent  to  the  suppressed  sobs  and  tears  that  had  been 
nearly  choking  her. 

"  Oh,  what  a  letter  to  write  me  !  After  such  a  long  and 
cruel  silence  too  !  Cannot  pay  me  a  visit  this  autumn  ! 
1  Pay  me  a  visit ! '  What  does  he  mean  by  that  ?  This 
is  his  home  and  I  am  his  wife.  And  he  signs  himself 
my  friend  and  well-wisher.  '  Friend  and  well-wisher  !  ' 
And  no  more  than  that  ?  Why  he  is  my  husband  !  Oh, 
what  does  he  mean  by  this  cruel  letter  ? "  she  cried, 
with  streaming  eyes  and  heaving  breast. 

Then  she  drew  from  her  bosom  the  small  black  silk  bag, 
took  from  it  the  piece  of  paper  of  which  mention  has  already 
made,  read  it  through  her  tear-dimmed  eyes,  then  kissed 
and  replaced  it,  saying  : 


CRUEL      T  R  E  A  C  H  E  II  Y  .  345 

le  If  it  was  not  for  this  precious  little  document,  I  should 
think  he  meant  to  abandon  me.  I  should  fear  that  1  was 
not  his  wife.  I  should  fear  I  had  been  fooled  by  a  false 
marriage.  But  this  bit  of  paper  proves  that  I  am  truly  his 
lawful  wife — though  he  treats  me  more  like  a —  Ah, 
Heaven  forgive  him  !  I  am  very  glad  I  found  this  little 
document.  It  reassures  me  when  I  doubt.  And  this  great 
grief  so  clouds  my  mind  that  I  suppose  I  can't  help  doubt 
ing,  even  when  such  doubt  is  mere  madness.  But  I  have 
the  paper,  and  l  seeing  is  believing,'"  she  sighed. 

Ah  !  how  little  the  poor  young  creature  knew  that  the 
document  upon  which  she  founded  her  faith  in  the  indisso- 
h  ble  legality  of  her  marriage  was  the  very  same  upon 
which  Alexander  L}ron,  her  husband,  based  his  belief  in 
his  freedom  from  matrimonial  bonds. 

But  this  is  a  mystery. 

As  soon  as  she  had  recovered  some  degree  of  composure, 
she  availed  herself  of  her  knowledge  of  his  address  to  write 
to  him  the  first  letter  she  had  been  able  to  send  him  in 
some  months.  In  this  letter  so  entirely  was  she  taken  up 
by  her  love  and  her  sorrow,  that  she  utterly  forgot  to  men 
tion  the  enormous  fortune  that  had  been  left  her.  She 
wrote  him  a  long,  earnest,  impassioned  appeal,  praying  him 
by  the  love  he  once  bore  her,  and  by  the  love  that  she  must 
ever  bear  him,  since  it  was  the  life  of  her  life,  to  come  to 
her,  if  only  for  a  little  while  ;  she  said,  pathetically,  that 
she  would  never  ask  it  again. 

"  Ob,  these  words  are  cold  and  lifeless,"  she  wrote.  u  But 
if  you  were  here,  my  soul  would  find  some  means  of  reach 
ing  yours.  My  lips  and  my  eyes  and  my  hands  would  show 
you  that  they  only  live  when  they  meet  yours.  Oh,  come 
home  !  I  die,  Alick  !  I  die  !  Come  and  save  me  !  Come? 
if  only  for  a  little  while.  Oh,  my  beloved,  my  whole  heart 
and  soul  and  life  goes  out  in  this  cry — Come  home  f" 


346  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 


CHAPTER  XXXYL 

AGONY. 

The  peace  that  others  seek  they  find; 

The  heaviest  storms  not  longest  last; 

Heaven  grants  even  to  the  guilty  mind, 

An  amnesty  for  what  is  past. 

I  only  pray  to  know  the  worst, 

And  wish,  as  if  my  heart  would  burst.— WORDSWOHTH. 

As  before,  day  after  day  passed  slowly  and  sadly  over  the 
"head  of  the  young  forsaken  wife.  The  golden  month  of 
October  was  declining  towards  its  close,  and  still  she  re 
ceived  no  letter  from  her  husband  in  answer  to  her  last  im 
passioned  appeal. 

She  wrote  again  and  again  ;  but  with  no  better  success. 
How  he  must  have  steeled  his  breast  against  her  to  resist 
the  pleading  of  her  letters,  where  every  word  seemed  a  tear 
of  blood  wrung  from  her  crushed  and  bleeding  heart.  But 
most  likely  he  did  not  even  trust  himself  to  read  them. 

In  this  agony  of  suspense,  she  must  have  either  mad 
dened  or  died,  but  for  the  "  little  angel  "  she  expected  ;  for 
it  is  scarcely  possible  for  the  mother  of  an  unborn  babe, 
even  under  the  greatest  trials  and  heaviest  sorrows,  either 
to  lose  her  reason,  or  break  her  heart.  In  making  ready  for 
the  little  one,  and  in  looking  for  its  coming,  she  found  an 
antidote  against  despair. 

But  her  moods,  of  course,  varied  with  the  state  of  her 
nerves.  There  were  times  in  which  she  hoped,  when  her 
hour  should  come,  that  both  she  and  her  babe  might  be  per 
mitted  to  die,  and  go  to  their  eternal  rest. 

"Where  I  shall  never  trouble  him  more;  or,  perhaps 
regret  him,  either,  though  this  is  doubtful.  Oh,  Alick ! 
Alick  ! "  she  would  exclaim,  with  a  burst  of  tears  and  sobs. 

But  these  miserable  spells  of  despondency  she  always 
repented  as  sins.  And  she,  afterwards,  prayed  that  her 


AGONY.  347 

babe  might  live,  and  that  she  might  be  forgiven,  and  spared 
and  strengthened  to  raise  it. 

She  was  so  young  and  inexperienced  that  she  did  not 
know  when  to  count  upon  the  advent  of  the  little  stranger; 
but  she  felt  sure  that  the  time  could  not  be  far  off. 

It  was  in  the  last  days  of  October,  that  she  received 
another  letter  from  her  recreant  husband.  She  was  stand 
ing  at  the  window  of  her  bed-chamber,  watching  for  the 
arrival  of  Leo  from  the  post-office,  as  she  had  watched  for 
so  many  days,  when  she  saw  the  boy  riding  towards  the 
house. 

She  tapped  on  the  glass  panes  to  attract  his  attention ; 
and  he  heard  her,  and  he  pulled  a  letter  from  his  pocket, 
and  held  it  up  to  view  as  he  struck  the  spurs  to  his  horse's 
flanks  and  dashed  rapidly  up  to  the  door. 

She  rushed  down  to  meet  him,  and  snatched  the  letter. 

"  From  Richmond,  madam,"  he  said ;  "  which  I  hope 
master  is  well,  and  is  coining  home." 

"  Yes,  from  Richmond,"  she  said,  tearing  the  envelope 
open,  and  beginning  to  run  her  eyes  over  it,  as  she  went 
back  to  her  room  and  sank  into  her  resting-chair.  For  the 
poor  young  wife  and  expectant  mother  could  not  now  rush 
about  and  excite  herself  with  impunity. 

She  sank,  faint,  dizzy  and  breathless,  into  her  chair,  and 
tried  to  reau  her  letter  ;  but  the  words  ran  together,  and 
the  lines  reeled  before  her  eyes  ;  and  some  minutes  passed 
before  she  was  sufficiently  recovered  and  calmed  to  do  so. 
And  as  she  gathered  the  meaning  of  this  most  cruel  of  all 
his  heartless  letters,  her  pale  face  grew  paler  still,  her 
breath  came  in  short  gasps,  and  her  frame  shook  as  with 
an  ague  fit. 

Before  she  had  quite  finished  reading  it,  she  let  it  drop 
from  her  hands,  threw  up  her  arms,  and,  with  a  piercing 
shriek,  fell  forward  to  the  floor. 

And  well  she  might. 


348  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

This  murderous  letter  Alexander  had  sent  to  his  wronged 
wife  as  a  coup  de  grace. 

In  it  he  told  her  that  humanity  had  induced  him  to  pre 
pare  her,  by  a  long  abstinence  from  her  society,  for  the 
painful  communication  he  was  about  to  make.  He  dared 
to  hope  that  by  this  time  she  must  have  seen  that  there 
was  something  wrong  in  their  union,  and  some  good  cause 
other  than  he  had  before  stated  for  his  keeping  away  from 
her.  He  said  that  now  he  believed  she  was  ready  to  learn, 
without  a  great  shock,  which  he  had  studied  to  spare  her, 
the  true  cause  of  his  parting  from  her.  He  then  went  on 
to  tell  her  that  early  in  the  month  of  March  he  had  discov 
ered,  to  his  own  great  astonishment,  that  their  union  was 
utterly  null,  void,  and  illegal ;  that  he  could  not  find  it  in 
his  heart  at  that  time  to  shock  her  with  the  fatal  news  ;  but 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  prepare  her  for  it  by  degrees,  and 
finally  to  break  it  to  her  very  slowly.  He  begged  to 
remind  her  that  since  the  day  upon  which  he  had  made 
the  discovery  of  the  unlawfulness  of  their  connection  he 
had  never  wronged  her  by  intruding  into  her  private  apart 
ments,  or  treating  her  otherwise  than  with  the  reserve  due 
to  a  lady  and  the  affection  owed  to  a  sister.  He  repeated 
that  he  had  tried  to  spare  her  pain  in  the  breaking  of  this 
tie,  the  severance  of  which  was  as  distressing  to  him  as  it 
could  possibly  be  to  her.  He  assured  her  that,  though 
duty  forbade  him  ever  to  see  her  face  again,  he  should  pro 
vide  for  her  future  welfare,  by  securing  to  her  the  little 
estate  upon  which  she  lived.  He  concluded  by  telling  her, 
that  as  propriety  required  all  possible  intercourse,  even  by 
writing,  to  cease  between  them,  and  as  he  himself  was 
about  to  leave  town  for  the  country,  it  would  be  useless  for 
her  to  reply  to  his  letter. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  in  this  cruel  communication  he 
took  care  to  say  no  more  than  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
quell  and  quiet  her  claims  on  him.  Pie  did  not  even  call 


AGONY.  349 

her  by  name,  but  addressed  her  as  "  my  poor  little  friend." 
He  did  not  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  any  of  her  letters. 
And,  worse  than  all,  he  failed  to  specify  the  cause  of  the 
alleged  illegality  of  their  marriage — whether  it  had 
chanced  in  any  informality  of  the  ceremony,  which  might 
be  remedied  by  a  second  and  more  careful  solemnization  of 
the  rites  ;  or  whether  it  existed  in  the  shape  of  some  in 
surmountable  impediment  that  must  forbid  their  union. 
Nor  did  he  venture  to  allude  to  his  former  betrothal  and 
his  approaching  wedding  with  his  cousin  Anna.  Indeed, 
all  proper  names  of  persons  and  places  seemed  studiously 
left  out.  The  writing  also,  was  in  a  disguised  hand,  and 
without  date  or  signature. 

Altogether  it  was  a  careful  work  of  a  cautious  man,  who 
would  have  been  an  astute  villain  and  a  successful  schemer 
if  he  had  not,  in  the  blindness  of  his  selfishness,  over 
reached  even  himself. 

It  bore  no  internal  signs  of  the  writer  or  of  the  person 
to  whom  it  was  written.  It  might  have  been  sent  by 
another  man  to  another  woman.  It  could  never  be  success 
fully  produced  in  evidence  against  any  one  in  any  court. 

But  if  he  took  this  precaution  with  the  idea  that  his 
deeply  wronged  wife  could  ever  drag  her  domestic  sorrows 
before  a  public  tribunal,  and  expose  his  private  letters  for 
her  own  vindication,  he  had  studied  her  character  to  very 
little  purpose. 

The  blow  he  had  dealt  had  well  nigh  proved  her  death 
stroke.  It  struck  her  to  the  floor.  Her  cry  and  her  fall 
aroused  her  servants,  who  came  running  to  her  room  in 
haste.  They  found  her  stretched  in  a  swoon  on  the  carpet, 
with  the  open  letter  beside  her. 

"  Master's  dead  now,  for  sure  !  "  exclaimed  Leo,  in  con 
sternation. 

'•  And  no  harm  done  if  he  is  !  "  cried  Pina,  who  had, 
\viih  her  \»  iman's  wit,  long  ago  detected  the  bad  faith. 


350  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  But  it's  killed  mist'ess  ! "  groaned  the  boy. 

"  It  haint !  it's  only  overcome  her  like  !  Help  me  to  get 
her  up,  and  don't  stand  there  blubbering  !  "  said  the  girl. 

Between  them  the}''  tenderly  lifted  their  mistress  and 
laid  her  on  her  bed. 

"  Now,  Leo,  you  go  out  and  stop  in  the  passage,  so  as  to 
be  in  calling  distance  if  I  want  anything.  And  leave  me 
alone  with  my  madam.  I've  seen  her  in  these  here  fainty 
fits  before,  and  I  know  what  to  do  with  her.  Come,  now  !  " 
impatiently  exclaimed  Pina,  seeing  that  her  brother  still 
lingered,  "  be  off  with  you,  will  you  ?  It  ain't  no  ways 
proper  for  you  to  be  looking  on  while  I'm  unloosening  of 
her  clothes  ! " 

This  hint  drove  the  boy  in  haste  from  the  room. 

Pina  proceeded  to  undress  her  mistress,  turning  her 
about  very  gently  on  the  bed,  until  she  had  freed  all  her 
fastenings  so  as  to  give  her  lungs  the  fullest  play.  Then 
she  applied  the  usual  potent  stimulants,  and  after  much 
patient  effort,  she  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  little  lady 
open  her  eyes. 

But  Drusilla  recovered  her  senses  only  to  fall  into  the 
most  violent  paroxysms  of  grief  and  despair.  Convulsive 
sobs  shook  her  whole  frame  ;  bitter  groans  burst  from  her 
lips ;  tears  gushed  in  torrents  from  her  eyes.  As  her 
passion  of  grief  arose,  she  wrung  her  hands,  and  writhed, 
and  threw  herself  from  side  to  side,  moaning  piteously. 
Then  in  her  frenzy  of  despair,  she  sprang  up  and  bt-gcin 
walking  about  the  room,  striking  her  hands  together,  and 
littering  piercing  cries. 

In  truth,  hers  was  not  a  mute  grief.  Your  "silent 
sorrow'7  belongs  to  a  little  later  period  of  life,  when  years 
have  taught  the  sufferer  such  resignation  that  she  will  "  die 
and  make  no  sign."  But  on  this  stricken  young  wife  a 
blow  had  fallen,  heavy  enough  to  crush  the  strongest 
woinrn,  while  she  was  yet  little  more  than  a  child.  And 


A  G  O  K  Y  .  851 

she  felt  it  with  all  a  child's    intense    sensibility,  and  she 
grieved  with  a  child's  excessive  vehemence. 

Vainly  her  maid  tried  to  restrain  her  or  to  comfort  her, 
Pina  followed  her  mistress  up  and  down  the  room;  weeping 
for  company,  and  pleading  with  her — 

"  Oh,  mist'ess  darling,  don't  take  on  so  dreadful  !  Don't 
mist'ess,  that's  a  dear!  Oh,  what  has  happened?  Tell 
your  true  servant,  who  never  left  you  hut  only  once,  and 
never  will  do  so"  wicked  an  act  again,  never,  if  there's 
twenty  robbers  in  the  house.  Oh,  mist'ess,  what's  the  mat 
ter?" 

"  Oh,  girl,  girl,  he  has  left  me,  he  has  left  me  forever," 
cried  the  poor  young  wife,  with  another  gush  of  tears. 

And  it  showed  how  utterly  abject  and  self-abandoned  she 
was  in  her  profound  and  terrible  sorrow,  when  she  could 
forget  her  dignity,  and  make  complaint  in  the  presence  of 
her  youthful  servant. 

"  He  has  left  me,  Pina  !  Oh,  he  has  left  me  forever  !  " 
she  repeated,  wringing  her  hands  and  sobbing  violently. 
"  He  has  gone,  he  has  gone  for  good  ! " 

"  Blest  if  I  don't  think  it  is  for  good  !  and  a  good  rid 
dance  of  uncommon  bad  rubbish  !  "  grumbled  the  girl  in  a 
low  voice  ;  but  she  did  not  dare  to  let  her  words  be  heard. 

"Oh,  what  shall  I  do?  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  cried 
the  wretched  wife,  walking  wildly  about  the  room  and 
wringing  her  hands.  "  He  has  left  me  forever  !  forever  and 
ever !  " 

"  Don't  you  believe  one  word  of  that,  ma'am,  now,  don't, 
that's  a  dear  lad}7!  Lors,  he  wouldn't  have  the  heart  !  he 
couldn't  stay  away  from  you  forever,  no,  not  if  he  was  to 
try  to  ever  so  hard,"  sai-d  Pina,  soothingly,  as  she  followed 
her  mistress. 

"  But  he  says  so  himself!  he  says  so!"  exclaimed  Dru- 
silla,  with  a  passionate  burst  of  weeping. 

"  Well,   he  says   so,    and  maybe  he   thinks   so,   but   he 


352  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

can't  do  it.  It's  only  because  some  wicked  woman  has  got 
the  whip  hand  of  him  now.  But  lor  bless  you,  that  can't 
last.  All  men  is  fools,  ma'am.  I  know  that  much,  if  I 
don't  know  any  more.  But  lor  !  the  foolishest  of  'em  knows 
gold  from  brass,  and  is  sure  to  come  back  to  the  old  love 
and  the  true  love,  for  their  own  interests.  Goodness  knows 
they  never  does  anything  for  ours !  He'll  come  back? 
ma'am  !  Bad  pennies  always  does." 

"  Oh,"  moaned  Drusilla,  "  how  low  I  have  fallen  !  how 
low,  to  say  what  I  have  said,  and  to  hear  what  I  have 
heard  !  Pina,  my  girl,  .hush.  You  must  not  speak  of 
your  master  in  this  manner,  especially  in  my  presence.  It 
is  untrue  of  him  and  disrespectful  to  us  both,"  she  added, 
as  calmly  as  she  could  force  herself  to  speak,  as  she  dropped 
into  her  resting  chair. 

This  was  but  a  short  lull  in  the  storm  of  her  grief;  for 
presently,  the  keen  sense  of  her  husband's  desertion  and 
her  own  desolation,  pierced  her  heart,  and  she  fell  into  a 
fresh  paroxysm  of  sobs  and  tears,  and  leaving  her  chair, 
walked  distractedly  about  the  room,  raving  and  wringing 
her  hands  as  before. 

Pina  went  to  her  and  threw  her  arms  around  her,  say 
ing : 

"  Oh,  mist'ess,  mist'ess,  don't  do  so  !  You'll  kill  yourself 
and  kill  your  child  !  " 

"  Better  I  were  dead  !  better  my  child  should  never  be 
born  !  "  cried  the  frantic  woman,  abandoning  herself  to  the 
wildest  excesses  of  despair. 

"  Oh,  mist'ess,  don't  say  so !  and  don't  rave  so  !  If  you 
have  no  pity  for  yourself,  have  some  for  the  poor  little  blind 
and  breathless  baby  that  depends  on  you  for  its  life ;  and 
don't  kill  it  before  it  has  even  a  soul  to  be  saved  !  "  pleaded 
Pina,  touching  the  most  sensitive  chord  in  the  mother's 
heart  and  in  the  Christian  conscience. 

"  Give  me  something  !     Give  me  something  to  benumb 


AGONY.  353 

this  keen  pang,  then.  Give  me  opium  !  Give  me  any 
thing  that  will  dull  my  heart  and  brstin  without  doing 
harm/'7  she  demanded,  sitting  down  in  her  chair,  and  mak 
ing  a  great  effort  to  control  the  violence  of  her  emotions. 

Pina  mixed  a  composing  draught  of  tincture  of  valerian 
and  water  and  brought  it  to  her  mistress. 

Drusilla  drank  it,  and  its  effect  upon  her  sensitive 
system  was  instantaneous  and  powerful.  Though  her  eyes 
still  streamed  with  tears,  the  convulsive  hearings  of  her 
bosom  subsided,  and  she  became  comparatively  calm. 

"  Now,  mist'ess,  darlin',  you  just  let  me  help  you  to  bed 
and  you  lay  still  and  keep  quiet.  And  I  will  darken  the 
room  and  sit  by  you.  And  may  be  you  will  go  to  sleep  and 
then  you  will  be  better." 

And  Drusilla,  docile  as  a  child  now,  suffered  her  maid  to 
put  her  to  bed. 

While  the  girl  was  smoothing  the  white  counterpane  and 
making  everything  tidy  about  the  dainty  couch,  Drusilla 
suddenly  put  her  hand  to  her  throat  and  with  a  frightened 
look  cried  out : 

"  Where— where  is —  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  mean  the  little  black  silk  bag,  ma'am,  that  was 
tied  around  you  neck  ?  "  inquired  Pina. 

"  Yes  !  yes  !  where  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  took  it  off  when  I  undressed  you,  while  you  were  in 
your  fainty  fit. 

"  Where  did  you  put  it  ?  " 

"  In  your  upper  bureau  drawer,  ma'am,  where  it  is  quite 
safe." 

"  Oh,  Pina,  bring  it  back  to  me  directly.''' 

The  girl  obeyed. 

"  Is  it  a  relic,  ma'am  ?  "  inquired  Pina. 

"  Yes,"  answered  her  mistress.  And  so  it  was,  though 
not  of  the  sort  Pina  was  thinking  of. 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardoD — I  didn't  know,  ma'am." 
22 


354  T  H  E      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  And  now,  Pina,  no  matter  how  ill  I  may  become,  you 
must  never  let  this  be  removed  from  my  bosom  again.  It 
is  more  precious  to  nie  than  anything  I  have  in  the  world 
except  my  Bible  and  my  wedding-ring,"  said  Drusilla,  as 
she  fastened  the  treasure  around  her  neck. 

"  Indeed,  ma'am  !  Then  I  will  be  very  careful  not  to 
have  it  removed.  Now  try  to  compose  yourself,  ma'am," 
said  Pina,  as  she  proceeded  to  close  the  shutters  and  draw 
the  curtains  to  darken  the  room. 

Drusilla  complied  with  this  good  advice,  and  folding  her 
hands  as  if  in  prayer,  lay  very  quietly. 

Pina  went  to  the  chamber  door  and  spoke  to  Leo,  who 
had  remained  on  duty  in  the  passage  for  some  hours.  She 
told  him  that  their  mistress  was  now  better,  and  that  he 
might  go  down  stairs  and  look  after  his  own  affairs,  and 
that  she  would  call  him  if  his  services  should  be  needed. 

Leo,  glad  to  hear  of  the  little  lady's  improvement,  glad 
also  to  be  relieved  from  duty,  hurried  down  into  the  kitchen 
to  look  for  something  to  eat,  of  which  he  stood  greatly  in 
need,  not  having  broken  his  fast  since  he  went  to  the  post- 
office  in  the  morning. 

Pina  took  her  place  by  her  mistress's  bed,  and  patiently 
watched  there. 

Night  deepened ;  but  the  girl  lighted  no  lamp,  finding 
the  subdued  glow  of  the  low  wood-fire  on  the  hearth  suffi 
cient  to  see  by. 

Drusilla  lay  so  motionless  that  Pina  thought  she  slept. 
But  by  bending  down  and  looking  attentively  at  the  sup 
posed  sleeper,  the  watcher  saw  that  her  lips  were  moving  as 
in  silent  prayer.  And  soon  deep  sighs  arose  from  the  suf 
ferer's  bosom,  and  large  tears  rolled  down  her  face.  She 
was  awake  and  weeping. 

Pina  silently  arose  and  mixed  another  dose  of  the  benefi 
cial  composing  draught,  and  brought  it  to  the  bedside. 

Drusilla  drank  it.     And  soon  after  she  fell  asleep.     And 


SUSPENSE.  355 

the  youthful  watcher,  with  her  heavy  head  dropped  upon 
the  side  of  the  bed,  also  slept  well. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

SUSPENSE. 

Oh,  weary  struggle  !  Silent  tears 

Tell  seemingly  no  doubtful  tale; 

And  yet  they  leave  it  short,  and  fears 

And  hopes  are  strong  and  will  prevail. 

My  calmest  fate  escapes  not  pain  ; 

And,  feeling  that  the  hope  is  vain, 

I  think  that  he  will  come  again. — WORDSWORTH. 

AT  daylight  Pina  awoke.  Finding  her  mistress  still 
sleeping  heavily  under  the  influence  of  the  sedative,  she 
arose  and  replenished  the  fire  and  then  went  down  stairs 
and  got  her  own  breakfast. 

After  which  she  prepared  some  very  strong  coffee  and 
some  delicate  milk  toast,  and  took  it  up  to  the  lady's 
chamber  and  set  it  upon  the  hearth  to  be  kept  warm  until 
her  mistress  should  awake. 

But  with  the  hapless  young  wife  the  awakening  was  but 
the  return  to  anguish. 

With  great  difficulty  Pina  prevailed  on  her  to  take  a 
little  food.  There  was  but  one  argument  the  girl  could 
successfully  use  with  the  expectant  mother — her  child.  To 
keep  up  her  strength  for  its  sake,  Drusilla  tried  to  eat  and 
drink,  though  even  the  coffee  and  the  soft  toast  seemed  to 
choke  her  in  her  effort  to  swallow  them. 

After  this  little  repast  she  fell  back  upon  her  pillow,  too 
spirit-broken  to  wish  to  leave  her  bed. 

Pina  opened  the  front  windows  to  let  in  the  cheerful 
light  of  the  golden  autumn  morning;  and  then  she  took 
the  breakfast  tray  down  into  the  kitchen. 

Leo  was  sitting  there,  polishing  his  cutlery. 


356  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  How's  mist'ess  ?  "  inquired  the  boy. 

"  It's  hard  to  say.  I  know  I'd  rather  see  her  in  a  rale 
bad  spell  of  illness,  like  the  typus  fever,  or  something,  than 
this  way.  Her  heart's  broke  ;  that's  how  she  is.  And  I 
tell  you  what,  Leo,  long's  master's  done  broke  faith  with 
inist'ess  I  don't  see  how  we  got  any  call  to  keep  faith  long 
o'  him,"  grumbled  the  girl. 

"  Broke  faith  with  her  ?  "  echoed  the  boy,  pausing  in  his 
work. 

"  Yes,  that  letter  he  writ  said  he  wasn't  coming  back  no 
more.  And  that's  what's  killed  her." 

"  My  goodness  !  " 

"  And  now  look  here,  Leo — if  he's  not  coining  back  to 
take  care  of  her,  somebody  must,  that  is  certain.  I  don't 
know  enough,  although  I  did  help  mammy  to  bring  up  all 
my  little  brothers  and  sisters." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  I'll  do  anything  in 
the  world  for  mist'ess." 

"  Well,  I  tell  you.  Leo,  I  want  you  to  go  down  to  Alex- 
dry  and  fetch  mammy  to  her." 

"  But  good  gracious  me  alive,  that  is  as  much  as  my  ears 
are  worth  !  Didn't  master  order  us  not  to  have  any  follow 
ers,  not  even  our  own  kin  folks  ?  " 

"  But  I  told  you  before,  if  master  don't  keep  faith  long  o' 
mist'ess,  we  ain't  got  no  call  to  keep  faith  long  o'  him, 
'specially  when  it's  to  rist  her  life." 

"  Oh,  if  that's  the  case,  I'll  go  at  once,"  answered  the 
boy.  For  it  was  only  necessaiy  to  convince  him  that  his 
mistress's  safety  depended  on  "mammy's  "  arrival  to  make 
him  eager  to  go  and  fetch  her. 

Yet  just  as  he  was  about  to  leave  the  kitchen  he  turned 
and  inquired  ; 

"  But  isn't  better  to  ask  mist'ess  first  ?  " 

"No;  she  would  be  sure  to  object,  though  it's  for  her 
own  safety.  You  go  and  fetch  mammy.  And  then  I'll  let 


SUSPENSE.  357 

on  to  mist'ess  how  she  come  on  a  wisit  to  me,  promiscuous 
like,  and  Fll  'vise  mist'ess  to  see  mammy." 

"  All  right;  but  if  you  get  me  into  a  scrape  for  nothing, 
you  know,  Pina,  it  will  be  your  own  fault.'J 

"  Just  so  ;  and  I'll  be  willing  to  bear  all  the  blame." 

Leo  went  upon  his  errand,  and  Pina  hurried  up  to  her 
mistress's  chamber. 

Drusilla  had  thrown  herself  out  of  bed,  and  was  walking 
distractedly  up  and  down  the  room,  with  her  dark  hair  fall 
ing  down  over  her  white  night-dress,  her  face  pale,  her  eyes 
wild,  and  her  fingers  wreathed  and  wrung  together  in  an 
agony  of  grief. 

Vain  were  all  Pina's  efforts  to  soothe  her. 

"  Oh,  I  do  but  feel  my  trouble  more  and  more  !  more 
and  more  as  the  hours  go  by  !  If  I  only  could  see  him  ! 
If  I  could  see  him  once  and  speak  to  him,  he  would  hear 
me  !  he  could  not  let  me  die  before  his  sight,"  she  sobbed 
forth,  with  her  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  whose  fountains 
seemed  exhaustless. 

"It's  like  p'isoning  of  her  to  save  her  life;  but  it's  what 
the  doctors  do,  and  I  must  do  it,"  said  Pina,  as  she  poured 
out  a  large  dose  of  valerian  and  coaxed  the  sufferer  to  drink 
it. 

As  before,  the  powerful  sedative  quickly  took  effect. 
And  Drusilla  let  her  maid  lead  her  to  her  resting  chair 
near  the  window,  and  seat  her  in  it,  and  put  a  foot  cushion 
under  her  feet. 

"  There,  mist'ess,  sit  there  and  be  quiet.  I  wouldn't  lay 
down  on 'the  bed  too  much.  It  isn't  good  for  you.  Sit  by 
the  window  and  look  out  at  the  Lord's  good  sunshine. 
Bless  you,  the  sun  shines  still,  spite  of  all  the  fools  and 
and  wilyuns  in  the  world.  And  here,  I'll  bring  you  your 
Bible  and  set  it  on  your  little  stand  before  you.  You  used 
to  take  comfort  in  your  Bible.  Lor'  !  if  we  only  loved  Him 
half  as  well  as  we  do  some  of  his  onworthy  creeturs  we 


358  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

needn't  have  our  hearts  broke  by  'em,"  said  Pina,  as  she 
made  the  arrangement  she  proposed.  But  her  last  senti 
ment  was  spoken  sotto  voce  and  did  not  reach  the  ears  of 
her  inattentive  mistress. 

Instead  of  deriving  the  consolation  from  the  sacred 
volume  which  indeed  she  was  too  much  overcome  to  seek, 
Drusilla  dropped  her  head  upon  its  open  pages  and  seemed 
to  pray,  or  weep,  in  silence. 

"  To  think,  when  she'  gets  wiolent,  I  have  to  knock  her 
down  with  a  dose  of  walerian  this  way  !  It's  a  most  like 
murder.  And  how's  it  a  gwine  to  end  ?  I  wish  mammy 
would  come.  I  hope  she  'aint  got  no  engagement  nowhere 
else,"  muttered  Pina  to  herself  as  she  went  and  made  up 
the  bed. 

At  noon  it  was  a  work  of  difficulty  and  of  diplomacy  for 
Pina  to  get  her  mistress  to  swallow  a  few  spoonfuls  of  the 
chicken  broth  she  had  prepared  for  her. 

In  the  afternoon  Drusilla  was  so  much  prostrated  that 
Pina  assisted  her  to  bed,  and  darkened  the  room,  that  she 
might  sleep,  if  possible. 

Late  in  the  evening  Leo  returned  from  Alexandria, 
bringing  with  him  a  middle-aged,  motherly-looking  colored 
woman,  who  called  herself  "  Aunt  Hector,  honey,"  but 
whom  Pina  rushed  to  embrace  as  "  mammy." 

As  soon  as  the  overjoyed  daughter  had  relieved  her 
mammy  of  bonnet,  shawl  and  umbrella,  and  had  sent  them 
by  Leo  with  the  "big  box,  little  box,  ban-box  and  bundle," 
up  to  the  servants'  bed-rooms  over  the  kitchen,  she  set 
about  getting  tea  for  the  traveller. 

She  laid  a  cloth  upon  which  she  arranged  her  own  best 
service,  with  cold  ham,  fried  chicken,  fresh  butter,  Mary 
land  biscuits,  and,  lastly,  a  pot  of  fragrant  imperial. 

While  Leo  was  out  in  the  stable  attending  to  his  horses, 
the  mother  and  daughter  sat  down  to  the  table  together. 

"  ]Now  what  sort  of  a  home  is  this  here  you've  got  here, 


SUSPENSE.  359 

gal,  where  the  marser  is  allus  gone  and  the  missus  allus 
grievin'  clay  in  and  day  out  ?  " 

"  Well,  mammy,  }^ou  know  as  one  follows  the  other ;  and 
if  the  master's  always  gone  the  mist'ess  is  likely  to  be 
always  grieving,  if  so  be  she  cares  for  him,  which  our 
mist'ess  do." 

"  What's  he  gone  so  much  for  ?     It  looks  bad." 

"  So  it  do,  mailing,  which  it  is  bad  too." 

"  But  what's  he  gone  for  ?  " 

"  He  say  business — let  me  see — connected — yes,  that's  it 
• — with  his  late  father's  will." 

"  Urn-hum  ;  allus  some  excuse  with  them  men.  To  begin 
so  airly,  too ;  'fore  he's  married  a  year.  Lor',  1  thought 
you  was  agoing  to  have  such  a  happy  home,  living  fellow 
sarvint  with  your  own  dear  brother,  long  of  a  young  mar 
ried  pair  with  the  highest  of  wages,  and  no  'sideration  but 
to  live  quiet  and  keep  away  company.  But,  deary  me  ! 
v,  ho  can  count  on  anything  ?  Well,  gal,  I'm  glad  to  get 
leave  to  come  to  see  you  at  last.  But  what  can  I  do  for 
you  ?  That  boy,  Leo,  I  couldn't  get  nothink  oiit'n  him, 
'cept  'twas  the  marser  was  allus  gone  and  the  missus  was 
allus  grievin',  and  you  wanted  me  to  come  and  nuss  her." 

"  Yes,  mammy,  that  was  it.  And  I  hope  you  can  stop 
now  you  are  here." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can  stop  fast  enough.  I  have  just  got 
through  nussin  Mrs.  Porter  with  her  fifth.  And  Liza  Jane, 
she's  out  of  service  now  and  stopping  home  with  me  to 
mend  up  her  clothes ;  so  she  can  take  care  of  the  house  and 
chillun." 

"  How  is  sister  Liza  Jane  and  the  rest  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they's  well  enough.  All  had  the  fever  'n  agur  in 
the  airly  part  of  the  season,  but  when  the  frost  came  it 
killed  it.  But  wThere's  the  young  madam  ?  " 

"  Sleeping  now,  mammy.  I  had  to  give  hor  a  great  big 
dose  of  walerian." 


360  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  You — you  dare  to  dose  a  lady  ?  Look  here,  gal,  don't 
you  set  yourself  up  for  a  doctoress  because  your  mammy's 
one." 

"Lor',  mammy,  what's  walerian  ?  I've  seen  you  give  it 
to  ladies  for  the  hysterics  by  tea  spoonfuls." 

"  Seen  me  ?  Yes,  but  I  tell  you  what,  gal,  you've  got  to 
p'izen  a  great  many  patients  before  you  can  be  trusted  to 
give  physic  like  an  ole  'oman.  But  don't  }  ou  try  that  on 
again,  gal,  I  tell  you." 

"Lor',  mammy,  what  on  the  yeth  was  I  to  do  with  her, 
when  she  was  raving  distracted  mad  a-most  ?  a  pacing  up 
and  down  the  room  a  tearing  of  her  beautiful  hair  out  by 
the  roots,  and  wringing  and  a  twisting  of  her  fingers  offen 
her  hands  all  but !  I  'clare  to  the  Lord  and  man  I  was 
'fraid  of  my  soul  as  she'd  dash  herself  against  a  wall,  or 
fling  herself  out'n  the  window.  And  nothing  on  yeth  but 
walerian  would  quell  her.  That's  the  reason  I  sent  for  you. 
I  didn't  like  to  take  the  'sponsability  to  keep  on  a  knocking 
of  her  over  with  that  there  weepon  ;  but  I  couldn't  let  her 
'stroy  herself  neither,  so  I  had  to  give  it  to  her,  whether  or 
no,  till  you  came." 

"  But  what  on  the  yeth  did  the  creetur  take  on  so  about  ? 
Not  his  being  away." 

"Yes,  it  was,  mammy.  His  being  away  and  his  disap 
pointing  of  her  by  not  coining  back  when  he  promised. 
Men  is  such  wilyuns  !  " 

"And  wimmin  is  sich  fools!  For  my  part,  when  the 
chillun's  well  the  men  may  go  to  Old  Nick  for  me  !  But 
she  'aint  got  no  chillun  to  comfort  her,  poor  young  thing." 

"Not  yet,  mother,"  said  Pina,  significantly. 

"  '  Not  yet  ?  '     What  do  you  mean,  gal  ?     Soon  will  !  " 

"  Yes,  mammy." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  Don't  know  exactly  ;  neither  does  she;  but  soon j  and 
that's  another  reason  v.'hy  I  sent  for  you." 


SUSPENSE.  361 

"Um  hum.  Well,  if  that's  so,  she's  not  to  "be  let  to  go 
raving  and  tearing  about,  let  who  will  come  or  stay  away," 
said  the  wise  woman. 

The  abrupt  entrance  of  Leo  put  an  end  to  this  part  of 
the  gossip. 

The  boy  sat  down  at  the  table  and  took  his  tea. 

"  And  now,  mammy,"  said  Pina,  "  as  it's  late  and  you're 
tired,  I'll  show  you  where  you  are  to  sleep.  /  shall  have  to 
stop  in  the  room  with  the  mist'ess." 

"  And  mind  you,  don't  give  her  any  more  physic,  'out 
calling  me  fust,"  said  mammy,  as  she  followed  her  daughter 
up  to  the  little  room  above  the  kitchen. 

Pina  dismissed  Leo  to  the  stable  loft,  fastened  up  the 
house,  raked  out  the  kitchen  fire,  and  then  returned  to  her 
mistress's  chamber. 

The  poor  little  lady  was  in  a  troubled  sleep,  broken  by 
fitful  sighs  and  sobs,  and  muttered  words  of  which  "  Alick  " 
was  the  only  one  to  be  distinctly  heard. 

Pina  just  loosened  her  own  clothes  and  sat -down  in  the 
lounging  chair  by  the  side  of  the  bed  to  watch  or  sleep,  as 
the  case  might  be.  She  slept;  of  course  5  and  her  sleep  was 
so  deep  that  she  did  not  know  her,  mistress  awoke  and  arose 
a  little  after  midnight  and  paced  the  floor,  weeping  and 
wringing  her  hands,  until  daylight,  when  she  fell  exhausted 
upon  the  bed  and  dropped  into  a  short  and  fitful  slumber, 
disturbed  with  gasps  and  starts. 

By  sunrise  Pina  opened  her  own  eyes,  and  seeing  her 
mistress  lying  veiy  much  as  she  had  left  her  when  she  fell 
asleep,  the  girl  arose  and  replenished  the  fire  and  went 
down  into  the  kitchen. 

Here  she  found  "  mammy  "  making  herself  at  home  and 
in  full  blast  before  the  range  getting  the  breakfast. 

"  Well,  and  when  am  I  to  see  the  madam,  I'd  like  to 
know  ?  "  inquired  Aunt  Hector. 

"  Soon's  ever  she  wakes,  mammy  ;  which  you  know  you 


362  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

couldn't  see  her  last  night,  'pon  account  of  you  being  tired 
and  she  sleepy." 

"  How  is  she  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Sleeping  like  an  angel,  which  so  she's  been  a  doing  of 
all  night." 

11  Urn  hum,  you  been  a  giving  of  her  more  o'  that 
walerian  !  " 

"  Deed  I  aint,  mammy,  which  she  hasn't  needed  of  it." 

When  Pina  and  her  mother  and  brother  had  had  their 
breakfast,  the  girl  prepared  some  rich  and  delicate  choco 
late  and  some  nice  light  muffins  for  her  mistress's  morning 
meal,  and  took  them  up  to  the  lady's  chamber. 

Drusilla  was  awake,  though  pale  and  worn. 

After  having  bathed  her  face  and  hands  with  diluted 
Florida  w.ater,  she  consented  to  take  a  little  of  the  refresh 
ments  that  Pina  brought  and  sat  upon  a  stand  by  her  bed 
side. 

While  Drusilla  sat  up  in  bed  and  sipped  her  chocolate, 
Pina  broached  the  subject  of  her  mother's  presence  in  the 
house. 

"  Mist'ess,  I  want  to  tell  you,  ma'am,  as  my  ole  mammy 
has  come  to  see  me,  a  little  bit.  I  hope  you  has  nothing 
of  no  objection  11010,  ma'am  ?  }J 

"  None  in  the  world,  Pina.  Mr.  Lyon "  She  had 

nearly  broken  down  and  wept  again  when  she  pronounced 
his  name  ;  but  she  gasped,  recovered  herself  and  went  on 
— "  Mr.  Lyon  used  to  object  to  having  even  your  relatives 
come  to  the  house,  but  now  that  he  is  not  here  their  coming 
or  going  can  make  no  difference." 

"  And  you  don't  object  on  your  own  account,  ma'am  ?  " 

"No,  Pina,  no;  I  don't.  It  is  good  to  have  your  mother 
to  come  to  see  you.  I  wish,  oh,  how  I  do  wish  I  had  a 
mother  to  come  to  see  me,  in  my  great  trouble  !  "  she  added, 
with  a  little  sob. 

The  tears  rose  to  Pina's  eyes,  as  she  answered : 


SUSPENSE.  363 

"My  mammy  is  only  a  poor  colored  ?oman ;  but  indeed, 
ma'am,  if  you  will  let  her,  she  will  do  for  you  as  loving  and 
as  tender  as  any  mother." 

"  Will  she  stay  with  you  long,  Pina  !  " 

"  She  would  like  to  stay  some  weeks,  if  you  would  let 
her,  ma'am." 

"  She  can  stay  as  long  as  she  likes,  for  your  sake,  my 
good  girl.  But  your  mother  —  she  must  he  in  years, 
Pina  ?  " 

"  She's  past  fifty,  ma'am,  I  believe." 

"  Is  she — experienced  ?  " 

"Beg  pardon,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Is  she — wise,  skillful,  knowing,  I  mean,  about  sickness 
and  about  children  ?  " 

"  Oh !  yes,  ma'am,  which  that  is  her  perfession,  brought 
•up  to  it,  ma'am." 

"  Then  I  think  it  very  providential  that  she  is  here  now. 
Oh,  I  am  very  inexperienced  and  helpless  !  Pina,  I  think 
I  should  like  to  see  your  mother  and  have  a  little  talk  with 
her.  When  you  take  away  this  service  you  may  bring  her 
up." 

"  Oh  yes,  ma'am  !  thank  you,  ma'am.  She'll  be  so  glad 
to  pay  her  'spects  to  you,"  said  the  girl,  delighted  that  the 
proposal  she  had  so  much  dreaded  to  make,  had  been  so 
kindly  received. 

But  the  moment  Pina  left  the  room,  Drusilla  fell  back 
upon  her  pillow  in  a  storm  of  sobs  and  tears,  and  gasping 
forth  at  intervals  : 

"  Oh,  Alick  !  Alick  dear,  to  leave  me  at  such  a  time  as 
this,  and  I  so  friendless  and  so  ignoran-t,  I  might  die  !  I 
wish  I  could  ! " 

After  a  few  moments,  hearing  footsteps  on  the  stairs,  she 
ceased  sobbing,  and  tried  to  compose  herself. 

Pina  discreetly  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Wait   a  moment,"  said  Drusilla,  wiping  her  eyes  and 


364  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

smothering  the  last  convulsive  throes  of  her  bosom.  And 
then "  Coine  in,"  she  called. 

Pina  entered,  showing  in  her  mother. 

Drusilla  turned  with  forced  calmness  to  welcome  the 
stranger. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  What  is  your  name  ?  "  she  inquired, 
in  a  gentle  tone. 

"  My  name's  Aunt  Hector,  honey,  ladies'  nuss,  which  I 
have  recommcndments  to  show  from  the  head  doctors, 
ma'am,"  answered  "  mammy,"  curtseying. 

"  I  think  it  very  fortunate  for  me  that  you  are  here.  I 
hope  you  will  be  able  to  stay  with  nie." 

"  Which  it  is  my  intention  so  to  do,  long  as  I  shall  be 
wanted,  honey,  and  no  longer." 

"  Thank  you,  I  would  like  to  talk  with  you  a  little.  I 
have  no  mother,  and  I  am  as  ignorant  as  a  child  of  many 
things  I  ought  to  know — Pina,  my  good  girl,  }TOU  may  leave 
the  room,  and  you  needn't  come  back  until  you  are  called. 
I  wish  to  speak  in  private  to  this  good  nurse." 

As  Pina  left  the  room  and  closed  the  door  behind  her, 
mammy  turned  to  her  patient,  and -said: 

"  I  hope,  ma'am,  that  gal  does  her  duty,  which  it  is 
always  my  pride  and  ambition  to  bring  up  my  chillun  so  to 
do." 

"  She  is  a  very  good  girl,  and  pleases  me  perfectly." 

"  I  am  oncommon  glad  to  hear  it,  ma'am." 

"  And  now  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  of "  Drusilla  hesi 
tated. 

"Yes,  honey,  I  understand.  Speak  out  and  don't  mind 
me.  I'm  an  ole  miss,  you  know,  chile." 

Thus  encouraged,  Drusilla  began  to  speak  of  the 
state  of  her  own  health,  of  her  youthful  inexperience,  and 
of  her  forlorn  circumstances. 

In  doing  this  she  tried  to  cover  the  sin  of  her  guilty 
husband,  by  explaining  his  absence  in  the  stereotyped  man- 


HOPING      AGAINST      HOPE.  365 

ner  that  he  himself  had  often  used,  and  putting  it  upon  the 
ground  of  "  business  connected  with  his  late  father's  will." 

But  this  effort  was  too  much  for  her  superficial  compo 
sure.  The  very  name  of  Mr.  Lyon  overthrew  her  self- 
control.  In  speaking  of  him  her  voice  faltered,  then  she 
choked,  gasped  and  broke  into  a  violent  fit  of  sobs  and 
tears  that  shook  her  fragile  frame  almost  to  the  point  of 
dissolution. 

The  nurse  was  much  too  wise  to  coax  or  scold  her  patient. 
But  the  sly  old  fox,  who  had  blown  her  daughter  up  for 
meddling  with  dangerous  drugs,  went  herself  and  mixed  a 
composing  draught  for  the  sufferer — and  not  of  the  harmless 
valerian  that  had  been  administered  by  Pina,  but  of  potent 
morphine  that  in  a  few  moments  sent  Drusilla  into  a  sleep 
that  lasted  all  that  afternoon  and  night. 

But,  ah  !  when  she  did  at  length  awake,  on  this  the  third 
morning  after  the  great  blow  had  fallen  on  her,  she  awoke 
but  to  the  renewal  of  anguish  intolerable  ;  of  sorrow  that 
refused  to  be  comforted ;  of  despair  that  had  forgotten  the 
verv  existence  of  hope. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

HOPING     AGAINST     HOPE. 

'Tis  hard,  so  young — so  young  as  I  am  still, 

To  feel  forevermore  from  life  depart 
All  that  can  flatter  the  poor  human  will, 

Or  fill  the  heart. 

Yet  there  was  nothing  in  that  sweet  and  brief. 
And  perished  intercourse,  now  closed  to  me, 
To  add  one  thought  unto  my  bitterest  grief 

Upbraiding  thee  — OWEX  MEREDITH. 

IT  would  be  too  painful  to  follow  the  young  and  deeply 
wronged  wife  through  the  first  weeks  of  her  great  trouble. 
They  were  passed  in  paroxysms  of  vehement   and  incon- 


366  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

solable  sorrow,  alternating  with  periods  of  dull  stupor,  partly 
the  result  of  reaction  from  high  excitement,  and  partly  the 
influence  of  the  nervine  sedative  administered  by  her  nurse. 

The  course  pursued  by  this  woman  in  the  treatment  of 
her  young  patient  was  upon  the  whole  very  judicious.  She 
did  not  lecture  her  on  the  subject  of  her  inordinate  aban 
donment  to  grief  and  despair.  But  she  artfully  drew  her 
attention  away  from  the  contemplation  of  her  troubles,  to 
the  consideration  of  those  last  and  most  important  prepara 
tions  for  the  arrival  of  the  little  expected  stranger,  in  which 
mothers  and  nurses  usually  find  such  absorbing  interest. 

She  amused  the  youthful  matron  with  certain  necessary 
alterations  in  the  arrangements  of  her  chamber,  with  fitting 
up  of  an  adjoining  room  as  a  nursery,  with  the  decorating 
and  furnishing  of  an  infant's  basket,  and  a  berceaunette  or 
wicker  cradle,  and  with  the  arranging  of  the  liliputian  ward 
robe  in  a  beautiful  miniature  bureau. 

In  these  natural  and  pleasing  occupations,  Drusilla  found 
some  relief  from  her  heavy  sorrow. 

The  late  October  weather  was  glorious  with  all  the  gor 
geous  splendor  of  the  Indian  summer,  glowing  through  the 
heavens  and  the  earth,  and  kindling  up  the  foliage  around 
the  wildwood  home  with  a  beauty  and  refulgence  of  color, 
richer  and  brighter  than  those  of  spring  or  summer. 

With  the  advice  of  the  nurse,  Drusilla  every  morning 
took  a  short  drive  through  the  woods,  and  every  afternoon  a 
slow  saunter  into  the  flower  garden. 

Under  happier  auspices,  this  child  of  nature  would  have 
derived  much  enjoyment  from  the  season  and  the  scene. 
Even  in  her  misery  she  felt  something  of  their  soothing 
and  cheering  influence. 

And  the  beneficial  effect  of  this  course  was  soon  apparent 
in  her.  Her  paroxysms  of  grief  became  less  frequent  and 
violent.  Her  nerves  grew  calmer,  and  her  brain  clearer. 
With  this  healthy  reaction  came  reflection.  She  thought 


HOPING      AGAINST      HOPE.  367 

upon  the  fixed  past,  the  troubled  present,  and  the  doubtful 
future. 

She  now  exonerated  Alexander  of  all  blame  in  his  cruel 
neglect  of  her.  He  thought,  she  mused,  that  their  marriage 
was  illegal,  and  therefore  he  was  just  in  his  avoidance  of 
her.  He  knew  that  the  separation  would  go  near  to  kill 
her,  and  therefore  he  was  merciful  in  gently  loosening  the 
tie,  instead  of  suddenly  wrenching  it  apart.  He  felt  that 
loving  and  tender  letters  would  but  melt  and  weaken  her 
heart,  and  therefore  he  was  wise  in  writing  shortly  and 
coldly.  No  doubt  he  suffered — poor  Alick  !  as  much  as  she 
did,  though  he  would  not  add  to  her  distress  by  telling  her 
so.  He  had  loved  her  so  much  !  so  much  !  and  now  he  was 
heroic  in  his  self-restraint  for  her  sake  !  So  she  justified 
him  to  her  own  heart.  For  to  honor  him  was  with  her 
even  a  greater  necessity  than  to  love  him. 

But  she  wondered  that  he  did  not  tell  her  the  reason  why 
he  thought  his  marriage  with  her  was  illegal.  And  more 
than  all  she  wondered  what  that  untold  reason  could  be. 
Her  conjectures  wandered  over  every  possible  and  impossi 
ble  theory  of  the  case : 

"  First,  that  Alexander  while  at  college,  or  while  in 
Europe,  had  contracted  a  secret  marriage ;  that  when  he 
wedded  her  he  believed  himself  a  widower ;  and  that  he 
had  recently  discovered  the  existence  of  his  first  wife.  But 
tli is  theory  was  no  sooner  conceived  than  rejected  ;  for  she 
remembered  that  he  had  been  solemnly  betrothed  to  his 
Cousin  Anna  from  her  earliest  youth,  and  that  upon  his 
return  from  Europe  he  had  been  about  to  marry  her,  when 
the  wedding  was  arrested  by  the  death  of  his  father. 

Secondly,  that  this  very  pre-contract  to  Anna  Lyon, 
might  have  rendered  his  marriage  with  her  (Brasilia) 
illegal.  But  this  was  also  set  aside  as  unreasonable,  for 
she  recollected  that  the  contract  had  been  broken  by  Misa 
Lyon,  as  he  himself  had  assured  his  bride. 


368  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

Thirdly,  that  Alexander  had  discovered  some  very  near 
blood  relationship  between  himself  and  his  wife  that  made 
their  union  unlawful.  But  this  was  at  once  repudiated  as 
quite  impossible,  for  she  knew  his  genealogy,  as  well  as  her 
own,  could  be  too  distinctly  and  too  far  traced  to  admit  of 
such  an  idea. 

So  imagination  traversed  the  whole  field  of  possibility  and 
impossibility,  and  found  nothing  to  invalidate  her  marriage. 

Then  she  came  to  this  conclusion  :  (and  in  it  her  instinct 
sided  with  her  reason) — that  there  never  had  existed  any 
sort  of  impediment  to  her  union  with  her  husband,  and  her 
marriage  was  perfectly  lawful  and  righteous. 

And  now  did  she  blame  him  ? 

Oh  no !  she  ascribed  his  whole  conduct  to 

MONOMANIA  ! 

And  when  she  found  this  answer  to  her  inexplicable 
riddle,  she  could  have  sung  and  danced  for  joy  ! 

Her  marriage  was  not  illegal ;  it  was  only  private.  And 
her  adored  husband  was  not  faithless ;  he  was  only  mis 
taken. 

She  had  been  told  of  monomania — she  had  heard  how 
men  might  be  a  little  insane  for  a  time  upon  one  single 
subject,  while  perfectly  sane  upon  all  others..  She  knew 
also  that  this  was  not  a  dangerous  type  of  madness,  but 
was  often  only  the  transient  effects  of  fever,  passing  off 
with  returning  health.  She  wondered  whether  he  had  been 
ill. 

Under  this  view  of  the  case,  she  resolved  to  write  to  him. 
True,  he  had  forbidden  her  to  do  so  ;  and  even  assured  her 
it  would  be  useless  for  her  to  write,  as  he  was  about  to  leave 
Richmond  for  a  tour  through  the  counties. 

But  she  reflected  he  must  have  left  directions  at  the  Rich 
mond  post-office  to  have  his  letters  forwarded  to  him 
wherever  he  should  be,  and  her  letter  directed  to  Richmond 
would  be  sent  after  him  with  the  rest  of  his  correspon 
dents'. 


HOPING      AGAINST      HOPE.  369 

So  she  sat  down  and  wrote  him  a  letter — patient,  loving, 
pitiful,  and  even  cheerful;  gravely  reasoning  with  him 
upon  the  fallacy  of  his  idea  that  their  marriage  could  possi 
bly  be  unlawful ;  playfully  inviting  him  to  return  that  she 
might  convince  him  how  very  righteous  and  legal  their 
union  was ;  then  tenderly  pleading  with  him  to  come  and 
be  with  her  in  her  approaching  hour  of  trial  and  danger. 
She  said  no  word,  dropped  no  hint  of  the  bitter  anguish  his 
letter  had  inflicted  upon  her,  of  how  nearly  her  brain 
had  been  crazed,  her  heart  broken,  and  her  life  lost  in 
despair.  Nothing  that  could  possibly  distress  him  did 
she  write ;  but  all  she  could  think  of  to  convince,  comfort 
and  cheer  him.  And  she  prayed  Heaven  to  bless  him  ; 
and  she  signed  herself  his  true  wife,  for  time  and  for 
eternity. 

When  she  had  sent  off  this  letter,  which  she  did  early 
on  a  splendid  morning  of  the  last  days  of  Indian  sum 
mer,  she  felt  so  hopeful  and  so  light-hearted,  that  she 
longed  for  a  pleasant  gossip  with  some  one.  So  she  rang 
for  her  old  nurse. 

"  Well,  honey  !  gracious  knows  it  does  me  good  to  see 
you  so  chirping  !  "  said  the  old  woman,  dropping  cozily 
into  a  soft,  low  chair  by  the  fire. 

"  Nurse,"  said  Drusilla,  cautiously  approaching  the  sub 
ject  that  now  occupied  her  thoughts — for  she  was  deter 
mined  to  keep  her  husband's  name  out  of  the  question — 
"  nurse,  in  all  your  professional  experience  did  you  ever 
encounter  monomaniacs  ?  " 

"'Count — which,  honey?  'Many  money  knacks  ?  ' 
What's  that  ?  tricks  to  make  money  ?  No,  child,  I  can't 
say  as  I  ever  did." 

"  I  meant    to  ask,"    said    Drusilla,  smiling,    "  if  in  all 
your  tending  of  the  sick  in  these    many  years    you  ever 
met  with  anybody  who  was  mad  on  one  subject  only  and 
sane  on  all  others." 
23 


370  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Cracked  in  one  place  ?  Yes,  child,  many  and  many 
a  one." 

"  Tell  me  about  them." 

"  There  was  young  Rowse  Jordan — I  mean  young  Mr. 
Eowsby  Jordan.  He  had  typhoid  fever,  and  after  he  got 
well  for  ever  so  long  he  fancyfied  himself  to  be  a  coffee 
pot  and  sat  roosted  upon  the  top  of  the  table  with  one 
arm  curved  around  for  a  handle  and  the  other  stuck  out 
straight  for  a  spout." 

"How  long  did  the  hallucination  last  ?" 

"  The— h ally— which,  honey  ?  " 

"  Tut !     How  long  did  he  fancy  himself  a  tea-pot  ?  " 

"  Coffee-pot,  honey — it  was  coffee-pot. — Oh,  for  days  and 
days." 

"  Did  he  get  quite  well  again  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  honey,  and  laughs  now  at  his  mad  notion,  for 
he  'members  all  about  it." 

"  Tell  me  some  more." 

"  Well,  there  was  a  lady  patient  of  my  own  who  would 
have  it  her  legs  was  made  of  glass,  and  she  kept  them 
propped  up  against  the  wall  behind  the  bed  and  wouldn't 
let  anybody  come  near  for  fear  of  breaking  of  'em." 

"  Was  her  head  right  on  other  things  ?  " 

"  As  right  as  yours  or  mine." 

"  And  she  got  over  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  she  got  well." 

"  Nurse,  tell  me — When  a  person  is  mad  upon  one  sub 
ject,  it  is  no  sign  that  his  mind  is  unsound,  is  it  ?  " 

"  When  his  brain  pan  is  cracked  in  one  place,  you 
mean  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Hi,  honey,  if  a  bowl  leaks  anywheres  you  can't  call  it 
whole,  can  you  ?  " 

-"  Certainly  not." 

"  Well,  then,  no  more  can't  you  call  a  man's  brain  pan 
sound  if  it's  cracked  ever  so  little,"  argued  the  old  woman. 


HOPING      AGAINST     HOPE.  371 

"But  they  get  over  it.  You  have  proved  to  me  that 
they  get  over  it,"  said  Drusilla,  anxiously. 

"  Oh  yes,  they  get  over  it.  Bowls  and  brain  pans  both 
may  be  mended." 

"  Nurse,  such  a  monomania  is  only  a  temporary  affair, 
like  the  delirium  of  fever,  is  it  not  ?  It  leaves  no  after  ill 
effects  upon  the  mind,  does  it  ?  "  she  eagerly  inquired. 

Mammy,  who  did  not  quite  understand  the  question,  but 
perceived  that  her  patient  was,  for  some  reason  or  other 
unknown  to  her,  troubled  upon  this  subject,  hastened  to 
soothe  her  by  replying  : 

"  Lors,  no,  indeed,  honey — not  the  leastest  bit  in  the 
world.  'Taint  nothink,  honey,  only  somethink  to  laugh  at 
when  it's  all  over." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Drusilla,  with  a 
sigh  of  relief. 

"  And  now,  honey,  if  you'll  scuse  me,  I'll  go  down  in  the 
kitchen  and  see  arter  the  chicking  jelly  for  your  dinner.  I 
knowr  as  how  that  gal,  Pina  '11  spile  it  if  I  leaves  it  to  her." 

"  Very  well,  nurse,  go." 

"  And  I  'vises  of  you,  ma'am,  to  put  on  3rour  hat  and  go 
for  a  walk  in  the  garden.  It's  right  to  go  out  and  joy  these 
fine  days,  which  few  of  'em  will  be  left  for  this  season,  and 
if  there  was  you  wouldn't  be  likely  to  get  the  good  of  'em." 

"  Thanks,  nurse,  I  think  I  will  take  your  advice." 

And  mammy  went  down  to  her  fancy  cooking. 

And  mammy's  young  patient  put  on  her  hat  and  cloak, 
caught  up  a  little  hand-basket  and  went  out  and  took  a 
turn  in  the  garden  among  the  broad  parterres  of  gorgeous 
autumn  flowers  that  studded  the  spacious  lawn  in  front  of 
the  house.  She  amused  herself  with  carefully  gathering 
the  falling  seed  and  tying  up  each  sort  in  a  separate  paper, 
and  putting  it  in  her  little  basket,  for  future  use. 


372  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIX. 

DICK    HAMMOND    IS    ASTONISHED. 

A  party  of  friends,  all  light-hearted  and  gay, 

At  a  certain  .French  cafe,  where  every  one  goes, 
Are  met  in  a  well-curtained,  warm  CABINET, 

Overlooking  a  street  there,  which  every  one  knows. 
The  dinner  is  done,  the  Lafltte  in  its  basket, 

The  champagne  in  its  cooler  is  passed  in  gay  haste ; 
Whatever  you  wish  for,  you  have  but  to  ask  it; 

Here  are  cofi'ee,  cigars  and  liqueurs,  to  your  taste. — 0.  MEREDITH. 

WHILE  the  young,  forsaken  wife  was  occupying  her 
lonely  hours  with  these  simple  pursuits,  and  waiting  from 
day  to  day  to  hear  from  her  faithless  husband,  and  hoping 
against  hope  to  see  him,  events  were  transpiring  in 
Washington  calculated  to  have  an  important  influence  on 
her  destiny.  They  were  hut  trifles  in  themselves,  however 
momentous  in  their  effects.  They  were  only  a  few 
bachelors'  wine  suppers,  card  parties,  and  such  like  means 
of  ruin.  But  that  fate  hangs  upon  trifles,  is  a  truth  as  old 
as  the  history  of  Eden  lost  for  an  apple. 

This  was  the  way  of  it : 

After  Mr.  Eichard  Hammond  had  received  his  final 
dismissal  from  Miss  Anna  Lyon,  "that  unlucky  dog,"  as 
his  uncle  called  him,  "  fell  among  thieves." 

FELL  AMONG  THIEVES.  That  is  the  best  way  to  char 
acterize  his  misfortune. in  sinking  again  into  the  society  of 
that  dissipated  set  of  men  who  ate  his  dinners,  drank  his 
wines,  won  his  money,  demoralized  his  habits  and  destroyed 
his  reputation. 

On  a  certain  evening  about  this  time,  poor  Dick  enter 
tained  a  few  of  his.  "  friends  "  at  supper  in  his  rooms,  at 
one  of  our  fashionable  hotels. 

Among  his  guests  were  Captain  Eeding  and  Lieutenant 
Harpe,  those  two  gallant  officers  of  the  Loafers'  Guard, 
who  had  once  affronted  Alexander  Lyon  by  obtruding 


DICK      HAMMOND     IS      ASTONISHED.        873 

themselves  into  his  opera  box,  and  afterwards  insulted 
Brasilia  by  following  her  home. 

A  lady  friend,  whose  husband,  in  his  profane  bachelor 
days,  had  been  present  at  this  orgie,  told  me  something  of 
what  passed  there. 

When  the  cloth  was  removed,  and  wines,  liquors,  olives, 
hookahs,  tobacco  and  cigars  were  placed  upon  the  table,  the 
"  gentlemen  "  became  more  than  ever  at  ease. 

The  conversation,  that  had  wandered  over  the  general 
subjects  of  politics,  field  sports,  operas,  singers'  throats, 
dancers'  feet  and  beauties'  points,  now  became  personal. 

"  By  the  way,  Hammond,"  said  Captain  Reding,  taking 
the  mouth-piece  of  his  hookah  from  between  his  lips,  and 
speaking  through  a  cloud  of  smoke,  "  I  see  by  the  '  Valley 
Courier,'  which  I  found  upon  your  table,  that  Miss  Lyon  is 
realty  going  to  marry  that  prig  Alexander.  Is  it  quite 
true  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,  sir,"  said  Dick,  changing  color,  and  help 
ing  himself  to  a  deep  draught  of  cogniac. 

(-  How  the  deuce  was  it  that  you  let  the  heiress  escape 
you  ?  " 

"  The  heiress,  sir  ?     I  am  not  a  fortune  hunter." 

"  Oh,  bosh  !  you  know  what  I  mean,  well  enough.  Who 
the  deuce  would  ever  accuse  you  of  being  a  fortune 
hunter  ?  " 

"  Who,  indeed  ?  Fortune  lavisher  would  fit  you  better  ! 
Eh,  my  boy  ? "  put  in  the  gentleman  who  afterwards 
reported  this  conversation,  and  who  must  therefore  be 
nameless. 

"  But  to  return  to  the  previous  question,"  said  Reding, 
lt  the  previous  question  with  an  amendment.  How  was  it 
that  you  let  the  beauty  elude  you  ?  " 

"  The  beauty,  sir  ?  I  fail  to  comprehend  you,"  said 
Dick,  coldly. 

"  Ah,  bah  !  "  exclaimed  young  Lieutenant  Harpe,  rush- 


374  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

ing  recklessly  into  the.  subject,  for  he  was  very  much  the 
worse  for  wine.  "  Why  the  deuce  can't  you  speak  out 
plainly,  Cap',  and  call  people  by  their  names  ? —  Miss 
Lyon !  the  beautiful  Miss  Lyon  !  the  elegant  Miss  Lyon  ! 
the  accomplished  Miss  Lyon  !  the  belle  of  the  season  !  the 
queen  of  the  haut  ton !  the  adored  of  Dick  Hammond, 
whom  she  also  adores  !  the  betrothed  of  Alick  Lyon,  whom 
she  abhors  !  And  here's  to  her ! "  And  with  this,  he 
tossed  off  a  big  bumper  of  brandy. 

"  Yes,  that's  so  !  "  said  Eeding,  "  and  that  being  so,  why 
the  mischief  don't  you  run  off  with  the  girl,  eh,  Hamrny, 
my  boy  ?  " 

Now  if  Dick  had  not  been  drinking  a  great  deal  more 
than  was  good  for  him,  he  would  never  have  let  his  cousin's 
name  come  up  in  such  a  company.  Even  as  it  was,  he 
rather  resented  its  introduction  now,  by  keeping  silence. 

"  Did  you  hear  me,  Hammy,  my  boy  ?  "  persisted  Ked- 
ing.  "  I  asked  you  why — seeing  she  liked  you  so  much 
better  than  she  did  that  rum  curse  she  was  engaged  to 
marry — why  you  didn't  cut  him  out  and  run  off  with  the 
girl  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,"  answered  Dick,  coldly,  looking  down 
into  his  empty  glass,  "it  is  not  to  be  presumed  possible 
that  the  '  girl,'  as  you  ventured  to  call  the  lady,  would 
have  consented  to  run  off  with  me." 

"  Then  I'd  be  blown  to  atoms  if  I  hadn't  kidnapped 
her ! "  burst  forth  young  Harpe,  who  was  very  far  gone  in 
inebriation. 

"  That  would  scarcely  be  practicable  in  the  nineteenth 
century  and  in  Washington  city,  Lieutenant,"  answered 
Dick. 

"  No,"  laughed  Eeding  ;  "  telegraph  wires  and  detective 
policemen  have  been  the  death  and  destruction  of  all  gallant 
enterprises  of  that  sort.  Neither  do  I  think  such  a  violent 
measure  would  have  been  necessary  in  this  instance.  He 


DICK     HAMMOND      IS      ASTONISHED.        375 

could  have  carried  her  off  with  her  own  consent,  and  no 
body  on  earth  could  have  prevented  that,  as  they  were  both 
of  age.  Why  didn't  you  do  it,  my  boy,  eh  ?  You  haven't 
answered  that  question  satisfactorily  yet." 

"  Because  he  didn't  dare  to ! "  recklessly  interrupted 
Harpe.  "  He's  one  of  the  '  faint  hearts '  that  will  never 
'  win  fair  lady.7  He  didn't  dare  to." 

"  I  will  answer  you  in  the  words  of  another  weak  wretch 
who  was  stung  by  sarcasm  into  crime  : 

1 1  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man ; 
Who  dares  do  more  is  none.' 

In  other  words,  Messieurs,  I  am  quite  as  incapable  of  run 
ning  off  with  another's  man's  betrothed  as  I  should  be 
in  making  love  t<j  another  man's  wife,"  said  Dick,  very 
gravely. 

"  Hear !  hear  !  hear ! "  shouted  Harpe  ;  "  he  wouldn't 
run  off  with  another  man's  betrothed !  oh,  no,  not  he  !  even 
when  he  knows  he  loves  her,  and  she  him !  oh,  no  !  no ! 
sooner  than  he'd  make  love  to  another  man's  wife.  As  for 
me,  I'd  do  either,  as  often  as  I  could  get  a  chance." 

"  Why,  man  alive,"  said  Reding  to  Dick,  "  we  are  not  in 
Spain,  nor  France,  nor  Germany,  nor  any  other  country 
where  betrothal  is  held  to  be  almost  as  sacred  as  marriage  ; 
we  are  in  America,  where  betrothal  means  simply  a  condi 
tional  engagement  between  a  young  man  and  young  woman 
to  marry  each  other  at  a  definite  or  indefinite  time,  pro 
vided  in  the  meanwhile  neither  party  should  happen  to 
meet  with  any  one  he  or  she  likes  better.  Bosh  !  such  en 
gagements  don't  end  in  marriage  once  in  ten  times ! 
Under  the  circumstances,  I  don't  think  you  were  bound  to 
respect  the  betrothal." 

"  I  differ  with  you,"  said  Dick. 

"  As  for  me,"  put  in  Harpe,  defiantly,  "  I  never  in  all 
my  life  fell  desperately  in  love  with  a  wgman,  until  some 
other  man  called  my  attention  to  her  merits  by  getting  pos 
session  of  her  himself." 


376  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  You'll  end  in  getting  the  sausage  meat  you  call  your 
brains  blown  out,  some  of  these  days,  my  fine  fellow,  if  you 
don't  take  care  of  yourself/''  laughed  the  nameless  gentle 
man. 

"I'd  like  to  know  who's  going  to  do  it!"  swaggered 
Harpe. 

"  Some  indignant  husband  or  lover,  of  course." 

"  Let  'em  try  it,"  crowed  Harpe. 

"  I  think,  Hammond,"  continued  Captain  Reding, 
"  common  gallantry  required  you  to  try  your  fortune  with 
that  young  lady." 

"  I  wish,  Reding,  that  you  would  drop  the  subject  here," 
said  Dick. 

"  As  she  never  took  the  least  troubld;  to  conceal  her  pref 
erence  for  you  over  Lyon,  I  do  not  see  why  we  may  not 
discuss  the  subject  here.  Why,  Dick,  it  was  evident  to 
everybody  who  saw  you  three  together,  that  she  loathed 
Lyon  and  liked  you.  The  thing  was  clear,  it  was  patent, 
it  was  flagrant,  under  the  circumstances  !  Now,  come, 
Dick,  honor  bright !  Why  didn't  you  marry  her  ?  " 

"  I  have  answered  that  question  already." 

"  Humph  !  Well !  we  all  thought  you  would  certainly 
carry  off  the  prize.  Why,  you  were  always  following  her, 
hovering  over  her,  waiting  on  her,  and  even  apparently 
making  love  to  her,  which,  by  the  way,  was  not  very  con 
sistent  with  your  present  declaration  that  you  would  be  in 
capable  of  marrying  another  man's  betrothed." 

"  Hear  !  hear  !  hear  !  "  shouted  young  Harpe. 

"  That  is  so,"  frankly  confessed  Dick.  "  It  is  true  that 
I  sunned  myself  too  much  in  the  light  of  that  bright  lady's 
smiles.  It  was  the  old,  old  story  of  the  moth  and  the 
flame.  But  no  one  was  hurt  except  myself.  I  was  smartly 
singed.  I  should,  perhaps,  have  been  entirely  consumed 
but  for  a  merci^illy  severe  hand  that  took  me  away  from 
the  fatal  light  and  warmth  of  the  flame,  and  put  me  out  in 
the  cold  and  dark.  And  so — saved  me." 


DICK      HAMMOND      IS      ASTONISHED.         377 

And,  saying  this,  Dick  lighted  his  hookah  and  withdrew 
into  a  cloud  of  incense. 

"  Come,  Dick,  talk  prose,  not  poetry.  We're  a  practical 
party  here,  we  are  !  The  mercifully  severe  hand  that  took 
you  away  from  the  fire  and  put  you  out  in  the  cold,  was  no 
other  than  the  fair  lady's  hand  that  tendered  you  the  tradi 
tional  mitten.  I  thought  so  !  "  laughed  Reding. 

"No;  it  was  the  war-worn  hand  of  a  veteran  soldier. 
My  uncle  had  me  up  before  him  one  morning;  actually 
arraigned  me  in  the  most  magisterial  manner;  set  Alick's 
rights,  Anna'3  duties,  and  my  own  trespasses  squarely  before 
me,  and  then  appealed  to  my  honor ;  to  which,  I  need  not 
sa^y,  Messieurs,  no  one  ever  yet  appealed  in  vain.  I  have 
never  seen  my  fair  cousin  since  that  day." 

"  Quite  right,  Hammond.  I  honor  your  principles,"  said 
the  nameless  gentleman. 

"  Ume-me-me  !  "  groaned  young  Harpe,  rising  sancti 
moniously.  "  My  brethren,  let  us  aiule  unite  in  prayer." 

"  Hold  your  profane  tongue,  sir,"  said  Captain  Reding, 
pushing  the  mocker  down  into  his  seat.  "  And  don't  drink 
any  more  brandy  !  You're  crazy  now.  You'll  be  under  the 
table  presently." 

"  Sober  as  any  man  here,"  laughed  Harpe,  dropping  into 
his  chair. 

"  Appealed  to  your  honor,  did  he,  Hammond  ? "  said 
Reding,  turning  to  Dick.  "Well,  I  suppose  the  word  has 
some  meaning  for  you  and  for  the  gallant  old  gentleman. 
But  I  wonder  how  Alick  Lyon  understands  honor,  and  how 
he  reconciles  it  with  his  present  course." 

"  His  present  course.  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired 
Dick. 

"  I  should  have  said  the  course  he  has  pursued  the  whole 
winter." 

"  What  was  that  ?  I  don't  like  Lyon.  I  can  not  now. 
I  all  but  hate  him.  But,  still,  I  do  not  think  him  capable 


378  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

of  doing  anything  dishonorable.  He  is  too  proud  to  do  so, 
for  one  thing,"  said  Alick's  generous  foe. 

"  Well,  may  "be  so.  But  I'd  like  to  know  what  his  ideas 
of  honor  are  ;  or  how  he  can  honorably  reconcile  his  position 
in  respect  to  Miss  Lyon  with  his  relations  to  the  little  beauty 
at  Cedarwood." 

"  '  The  little  beauty  at  Cedarwood  ! '  "  echoed  Dick,  in 
astonishment. 

"Yes,  little  Drusa!" 

«  Little  Drusa—" 

"  Come,  now,  Dick,  don't  you  be  Forestic,  Murdochic, 
Wallackic,  or  tragic  after  any  of  these  schools.  They're 
not  in  your  line.  So  leave  off  echoing  my  words  and  star 
ing  at  me." 

"But  you  said  something  about  a  girl  that  he  has  got 
hidden  away  at  Cedarwood  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did." 

"  I  don't  believe  it ! "  said  Dick,  bluntly.  Then  remem 
bering  that  he  was  the  host  speaking  to  his  guest,  he  cour 
teously  added  :  "  You  are  mistaken,  sir.  Lyon,  with  all  his 
faults,  is  not  a  villain." 

"  Who  said  he  was  ?  I  didn't.  All  I  say  is,  that  he  has 
got  just  the  sweetest  little  beauty  you  ever  saw  in  your  life 
cozity  concealed  in  a  pretty  cottage  ornee'  at  Cedarwood. 
And  he  is  very  fond  of  her,  and  she  is  entirely  devoted  to 
him ;  and  he  calls  her  sweet  love,  and  little  Drusa.  And 
she  is  just  the  loveliest  little  creature  the  sun  ever  shone 
upon,  with  a  clear  pale  face,  and  lustrous  dark  hair  and  eyes, 
of  such  unfathomable  depths  of  passion  and  of  thought  that 
she  might  well  be  supposed  to  be  from  the  East,  and  be  a 
daughter  of  the  Druses." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this  ?  "  asked  Dick,  with  emphasis. 

«  I'll  swear  to  it." 

"  Who  is  she  then  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  that  I  don't  know." 


DICK      HAMMOND      IS     ASTONISHED.        379 

"  What  is  she  to  him  ?  " 

"  Can't  undertake  to  say.  I'll  swear  that  this  little 
beauty  is  living  under  his  protection  in  his  house  at 
Cedarwood.  But  whether  she  is  his  wife,  or  his  sister,  or 
his  mother,  or  his  maiden  aunt,  of  course,  I  can't  tell. 
Doubtless  it  is  some  highly  respectable  connection  of  that 
sort,  Mr.  Alexander  Lyon  being  master  of  the  house.  If 
it  was  you,  Dick,  you  see  we  should  all  know  what  to 
think  !  "  laughed  Captain  Reding. 

Dick  Hammond  had  been  gazing  steadily  into  the  face  of 
the  speaker,  and  rubbing  his  own  brows  very  thoughtfully 
and  occasionally  frowning  painfully.  But  now  he  suddenly 
started  up,  struck  his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  and  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Good  Heaven  !     It  must  be  Drusilla  Sterling  !  " 

"  Humph  !  Forestic  again  !  You  know  her  then  ?  "  said 
Captain  Reding. 

"  Know  her  ?  I've  known  her  from  childhood.  Poor 
little  thing  !  So  this  is  what  became  of  her  ! "  said  Dick, 
in  a  voice  of  great  pain,  as  he  dropped  dejectedly  into  his 
seat  again. 

"  Now  look  here,  you  know  ;  none  of  that !  Don't  you 
be  gettin'  up  any  interest  in  her  j  because,  you  see,  I've 
made  up  my  own  mind  that  way.  And  when  Lyon  mar 
ries  I  mean  to  take  the  prett}^  cottage  and  the  pretty  girl 
both  off  his  hands,"  drawled  Harpe,  very  drowsily,  for  he 
was  in  the  last  stage  of  intoxication,  and  almost  asleep. 

"  You  can  so  well  afford  that  sort  of  thing,  with  your 
lieutenant's  pay  !  "  laughed  "  nameless." 

"  Who  is  this  girl,  Dick,  since  you  know  her  ?  "  inquired 
Reding. 

"  She  is  as  pure  and  good  a  girl  as  lives  in  this  world. 
And,  gentlemen,  if  she  is  at  Cedarwood,  as  you  say,  under 
Alick's  protection,  my  life  and  soul  on  it,  she  is  his  wife,  or 
she  believes  herself  to  be  such  !  "  said  Dick,  earnestly  and 


380  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

almost  angrily,  as  if  lie  challenged  even,  the  thoughts  of 
men  if  they  wronged  the  friendless  girl. 

No  one  seemed  disposed  to  contradict  him  in  words,  no 
matter  how  much  they  may  have  differed  from  him  in 
opinion. 

"  But  who  is  she  then,  Hammond  ? "  persisted  Captain 
l!eding?  who  never,  if  he  could  help  it,  left  a  point  unset 
tled. 

"Drusilla  Sterling,  a  clergyman's  orphan;  brought  up  in 
Alexander  Lyon's  family  ;  a  protegee  of  his  mother,  a  pet 
of  his  father.  Little  less  than  a  year  ago  she  disappeared 
from  her  home,  and  could  never  be  traced  by  her  friends. 
So  she  is  with  him,  the  hypocritical  scoundrel  I  But  she  is 
his  wife,  or  thinks  herself  so !  My  life  and  soul  on  it,  she 
does,  for  she  could  not  fall — she  could  not.  I  have  known 
her  from  her  earliest  childhood — the  sweetest  child  that 
ever  lived — a  little  saint !  " 

"  But  are  you  sure  she  is  the  same  with  Alick's  girl  ?  " 
inquired  Reding. 

"I  fear  there  is  no  doubt  of  it.  The  coincidence  of 
name  and  circumstance  is  so  complete.  I  can't  think  why 
I  didn't  recognize  her  when  }>ou  first  mentioned  her; 
though  in  truth  I  never  heard  her  called  Drusa,  but 
Drusilla ;  and  I  never  thought  of  her  as  a  woman,  but 
merely  as  a  child,  and  most  certainly  couldn't  associate  her 
memory  with  any  thoughts  of  license,  but  always  with  the 
most  sacred  sanctities  of  home." 

"  Were  you  her  lover  in  the  past  as  you  are  her  champion 
in  the  present,  Hammond?"  laughed  Reding. 

"  No — yes — I  don't  know." 

"Clear,  to  the  point,  and  satisfactory,  that  answer!" 
laughed  the  captain. 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  I  loved  her,  but  not  in  the  sense 
you  mean.  I  loved  her  only  as  a  great  New  Eoundland 
dog  might  love  a  baby;  as  a  big  brute  like  myself  might 
love  such  a  little  angel  as  she  was,"  said  Dick,  gravely. 


DICK      HAMMOND     IS-  ASTONISHED.         381 

'•'Ob,  yes,  all  women  are  angels  until  they  are — found 
out ! "  mused  Lieutenant  Harpe,  rousing  himself. 

"  What  did  you  say,  sir  ?  "  coolly  inquired  Dick. 

"  I  say,"  defiantly  answered  Harpe,  "  that  all  women  are 
angels  until  they  are  found  out,  and  then  they  are  fallen 
angels,  every  one  of  ;em  !  " 

"  Speak  for  the  women  you  know  best,  sir  !  for  those  you 
have  been  brought  up  with  ;  for  those  you  associate  with  ; 
for  those  nearest  and  dearest  to  you.  For,  of  course,  of 
them  only  can  you  speak  from  knowledge  !  As  for  me,  I 
judge  a  man  and  his  family  by  his  judgment  of  women. 
He  who  traduces  the  sex  defames  his  own  mother — and  his 
sisters,  wife,  and  daughters  if  he  has  them  ! "  said  Dick, 
indignantly. 

Instead  of  attempting  a  reply  to  this  scathing  rebuke, 
the  weak  traducer  of  woman  looked  around  on  his  com 
panions,  with  a  tipsy  smile,  and  winking  knowingly,  said  : 
'•/don't  mind  him,  bless  you  !  He  don't  know  what  he's 
talking  about;  he's  tight — tight  as  ever  he  can  be!  He 
wants  to  quarrel  now ;  he's  always  quarrelsome  in  his 
cups ! " 

And  having  delivered  himself  of  this  opinion,  he  crossed 
his  arms  upon  the  table,  dropped  his  head  upon  them,  and 
resigned  himself  to  sleep. 

Poor  Harpe,  he  has  a  very  weak  brain/7  said  Captain 
Reding. 

Xo  one  else  made  any  comment. 

"  Eeding,"  said  Dick  Hammond,  turning  to  the  captain, 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  how  you  discovered  the  residence  of 
this  poor  girl  at  Cedarwood." 

"  Why,  you  see  we  first  saw  her  with  him  at  the  opera. 
It  was  quite  early  in  the  season,  and  they  were  in  a  private 
box.  Harpe  and  I  were  in  the  orchestra  seats.  When  the 
curtain  fell  on  the  first  act  we  went  around  there  to  get  a 
nearer  view  of  the  pretty  creature,  hoping  also  to  get  an  in- 


382  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

troduction  to  her.  But  Lord  bless  you,  Lyon  scowled  at  us 
as  if  he  thought  we  had  come  to  pick  his  pockets.  We 
wouldn't  take  notice  of  his  black  looks,  but  by  being  per 
fectly  civil  and  self-possessed  ourselves  we  compelled  him  to 
treat  us  with  something  like  courtes}r.  But  it  was  only 
something-like  ;  it  wasn't  the  genuine  article  itself;  for  he 
wouldn't  ask  us  to  sit  down,  nor  he  wouldn't  present  us  to 
the  pretty  girl.  And  from  that  day  I  don't  think  he  ever 
brought  her  into  the  city  again." 

"  Then  how  did  you  discover  her  residence  and  her  rela 
tions  to  him  ?  " 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you.  Some  daj^s  after  that  we  met 
Lyon  in  the  reading-room  of  the  Brown  House.  We 
chaffed  him  about  the  mysterious  little  beauty,  you  may  be 
sure.  But  he  stopped  us  by  telling  us  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  clergyman,  and  was  only  passing  through  the 
city  under  his  escort,  and  that  she  had  returned  to  her 
home  in  the  country.'7 

"  A  mere  evasion,  of  course." 

"Yes;  but  we  did  not  question  the  fact  at  the  time; 
although  we  did  wonder  how  Alick  come  to  be  trusted  with 
the  escort  of  a  young  lady." 

"  I  should  think  so.     Pray  go  on." 

"A  little  later  we  discovered  the  truth  by  chance.  I 
went  to  spend  a  few  days  with  an  acquaintance  I  have 
living  about  a  mile  from  Cedarwood.  And  while  there, 
guided  by  some  negroes,  I  went  on  a  coon-hunt  by  torch 
light.  Did  you  ever  see  a  coon-hunt  by  torch-light  ?  " 

"  Often,  when  I  was  a  boy  ;  never  since." 

<e  Well,  the  sport  was  quite  new  to  me,  and  as  a  natural 
consequence  I  got  separated  from  the  dogs  and  darkies,  and 
got  lost  in  the  woods." 

"  A  good  beginning  for  an  adventure,"  said  the  nameless 
gentleman. 

"Yea.     Well,  to  resume — while  I  was  trying  to  find  a 


DICK      HAMMOND      I&     ASTONISHED.       383 

path,  I  saw  a  bright,  indeed  a  brilliant  light,  shining 
through  the  trees  at  some  distance.  I  went  towards  it,  and 
found  a  beautiful  cottage  ornee,  with  its  front  windows 
splendidly  illuminated. 

u  There  was  a  party,"  said  one  of  the  guests. 

"  No ;  though  as  it  was  now  between  two  and  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  on  seeing  the  lighted  windows  I 
was  struck  with  the  same  thought.  They  are  having  a 
blow  out  in  there,  I  said  to  myself.  But  it  was  nothing  of 
the  kind,  my  friends  !  " 

"  What  was  it,  then  ?  "  inquired  Dick,  anxiously. 

"  Wait  till  I  tell  you.  I  pushed  on  towards  the  house, 
and  when  I  came  up  to  it,  I  saw  no  carriages,  no  servants, 
no  life,  no  motion.  Everything  was  as  still  as  death.  In 
fact,  the  whole  house  was  closed  up  except  the  two  bril 
liantly  illumined  windows,  from  which  the  light  streamed 
far  across  the  lawn,  and  deep  into  the  woods." 

"  Go  ®n  !  go  on ! "  said  Reding' s  companions,  speaking 
in  a  chorus.  And  the  captain,  who  had  only  paused  to 
take  a  drink,  continued  : 

" f  Well,'  I  said  to  myself,  l  this  is  rum  go,  anyway  ! ' 
And  after  walking  around  and  around  the  pretty  place, 
without  seeing  or  hearing  anything,  I  just  climbed  up  to 
the  window-sill  and  peeped  through  the  lighted  window.'7 

Here  the  captain  paused  for  pure  aggravation. 

"  Well !  well !  what  did  you  see  ?  "  exclaimed  several 
voices. 

"  What  did  I  see  ?  Ah,  my  friends,  I  had  a  full  view 
of  a  small  terrestrial  paradise !  and  a  beautiful  mortal 
houri !  a  little  domestic  Eden,  with  a  sweet  little  Eve 
within  it !  an  enchanted  bower,  with  a  sleeping  beauty  !  " 

"  Do  speak  plainly,  Reding  !  that's  a  good  fellow  ! "  said 
the  nameless  gentleman. 

"  Well,  then,  I  saw  a  nice,  cozy  drawing-room,  the  very 
picture  of  elegance  and  comfort ;  a  fine  fire  of  sea-coal  iu 


384  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

the  grate  ;  a  luxurious  little  supper  set  forth  in  a  splendid 
service  on  a  round  marble  table ;  by  its  side  an  easy-chair, 
and  a  pair  of  slippers  ;  at  a  short  distance  and  nearer  the 
chimney-corner  a  little  stand,  with  an  astral  lamp  and  some 
books ;  and  near  it  a  lovely  young  creature,  reclining  in  a 
resting-chair,  fast  asleep,  with  the  book  she  had  been  read 
ing  fallen  upon  her  lap." 

"  What  a  beautiful  picture,"  said  one  of  the  company, 
while  the  others  listened  in  silence. 

"I  immediately  recognized  the  beauty  of  the  opera-box; 
but  as  I  live,  gentlemen,  I  did  not  then  connect  her  in  my 
thoughts  with  Alexander  Lyon.  On  the  contrary,  I 
believed  his  account  of  her,  and  I  said  to  myself — '  There 
is  the  little  darling  waiting  up  for  her  clerical  papa,  who 
has  gone  to  make  a  pastoral  call  on  some  one  of  his  parish 
ioners  who  is  dying.'  And  I  hung  there  by  the  sill  of  the 
window,  and  looked  in  and  fed  my  eyes  upon  the  sweetness 
of  the  scene. 

"  Well  ?  what  then  ?  " 

"  Then  I  heard  horse's  feet  coming.  '  Papa  is  returning/ 
I  said  to  myself.  And  I  dropped  from  the  sill  and  hid  my 
self  in  some  thick  bushes  below  it,  to  wait  till  papa  should 
pass,  so  that  I  might  make  my  retreat  unobserved.  It 
appears  that  the  horseman  went  first  around  to  the  stable  ; 
for  soon  I  heard  rapid  footsteps  approaching  the  house. 
And  you  may  judge  my  surprise  when  I  saw  a  young  man 
run  lightly  up  the  stairs,  and  saw  the  door  fly  open,  letting 
out  a  flood  of  light,  and  the  little  beauty  rush  into  the  arms 
of  the  new  comer,  whom  I  then  plainly  recognized  as 
Alexander  Lyon." 

"  Great  Heaven  ! "  exclaimed  Dick  Hammond,  in  agita 
tion. 

"  As  if  it  had  not  been  enough  to  know  him  by  his  face 
and  form,  I  had  his  voice  also  in  evidence  of  his  identity. 
'  Arc  you  as  glad  to  see  me  as  all  this,  my  little  Drusa  ?  " 


DICK      HAMMOND     IS     ASTONISHED.         385 

he  asked.  And  slie  answered  with  a  shower  of  soft  caresses 
and  silvery  tones." 

"  And  then  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

"  Why,  then;  of  course,  the  house  swallowed  them  up. 
The  door  was  shut  and  locked,  and  the  brilliant  windows 
were  darkened,  and  they  had  their  happiness  all  to  them 
selves,  while  I  was  left  out  in  the  cold." 

"  You  could  not  have  been  mistaken  in  what  you  sup 
posed  you  saw  and  heard  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

"  No ;  how  could  I  ?  That  was  not  the  only  time  I 
looked  in  at  those  windows  either.  A  sort  of  fascination 
drew  me  there,  to  look  in  upon  that  lovely  young  creature. 
While  I  remained  in  the  neighborhood,  under  the  cover  of 
coon  hunting,  I  paid  a  visit  to  the  lighted  windows  every 
night.  Ah  !  night  after  night !  night  after  night  did  that 
sweet  little  creature  sit  there  waiting  for  him,  leaving  the 
windows  open  to  guide  him  home,  and  keeping  his  supper 
warm,  while  he,  sorry  dog,  was  engaged  gallanting  Miss 
Anna  about  to  balls  and  theatres,  and  scowling  at  better 
men  than  himself  if  they  so  much  as  looked  at  the  belle." 

"  Reding,  I  am  deeply  grieved  to  hear  this  ;  scarcely  less 
so  than  I  should  be  if  the  poor  child  were  my  own  sister. 
But  I  repeat  and  reiterate  most  emphatically  this  truth, 
that  she  is  really  his  wife,  or  believes  herself  to  be  so  ! " 
said  Dick,  earnestly. 

"  I  think  you  are  quite  right,  Hammond  !  The  young 
creature  herself,  and  all  her  surroundings  breathed  so 
sweetly  of  what  you  called  '  the  sanctities  of  home  life  '  that 
no  one  looking  on  her  could  think  evil  of  her.  Indeed  I 
thought  evil  of  myself  though,  sometimes,  for  seeming  to 
play  the  spy.  But  I  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  of  look 
ing  into  that  beautiful  interior.  I  meant  no  harm." 

"  And  your  contraband  pastime  was  never  discovered  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  laughed  Reding.  "  She  rose  once  and  turned 
round  so  suddenly,  that  she  saw  me  before  I  could  drop 
24 


386  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

from  rny  perch.  She  screamed  and  disappeared ;  and  I 
could  have  scourged  myself  for  frightening  her. 

"  And  then,  I  suppose,  your  stolen  visits  ceased  " 

"Not  a  hit  of  it.  I  was  only  more  cautious.  But  one 
night  I  purposely  let  myself  he  seen  hy  him,  on  a  rare 
occasion,  when  he  happened  to  come  home  before  daylight. 
It  was  to  be  my  last  visit,  for  I  was  about  to  leave  the 
neighborhood." 

"  Did  he  know  you  ?  " 

"]STo!  for  as  soon  as  he  got  a  glimpse  of  my  face,  he 
blazed  away  at  me  with  his  revolver,  and  you  may  rest 
assured,  I  didn't  stop  to  claim  his  acquaintance !  All,  ho 
had  a  good  chase  after  me,  and  I  had  a  good  run  and  a  good 
laugh  !  When  I  returned  to  the  city,  I  couldn't  keep  the 
joke  to  myself.  I  had  to  tell  Harpe,  for  which  I  was  after 
wards  sorry  ;  for  the-  scurvy  fellow,  with  a  party  of  his  com 
panions,  having  met  the  poor  little  girl  in  the  city  after 
Lyon  had  left,  took  advantage  of  her  unprotected  state  and 
followed  her  home,  and  would  have  intruded  into  her  house, 
if  they  had  not  been  prevented  by  her  servants." 

"Reding,"  said  Dick,  gravely,  "after  what  I  have  told 
you  of  this  young  lady,  I  hope  and  trust  that  you  will 
abstain  from  speaking  of  her  anywhere,  and  from  doing 
anything  to  annoy  her  at  any  time.  In  a  word,  I  appeal  to 
your  manhood,  to  treat  her  in  all  respects  as  you  would 
treat  the  most  honored  woman  of  your  acquaintance." 

"  I  never  wished  to  do  otherwise,  and  as  I  never  expect 
to  see  the  little  angel  again,  I  shall  never  have  a  chance  of 
doing  otherwise.  But  here,  I  declare,  the  day  is  breaking ! 
And  we  ought  to  do  the  same  !  Wake  up,  Harpe  !  Come  ! 
Good-night,  Hammond  ! " 

And  so  the  party  separated. 

Dick  Hammond  remained,  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  in  deep  thought.  At  length  he  took  a  sudden  resolu 
tion — to  seek  Drusilla. 


387 


CHAPTER  XL. 

DICK'S  NEWS. 

If  Sorrow  has  taught  me  anything, 

She  has  taught  me  to  weep  for  you, 
If  falsehood  has  left  me  a  tear  to  shed 

Eor  Truth,  those  tears  are  true.—  OWEN  MEREDITH. 

THE  greenness  of  the  grass,  the  freshness  of  the  flowers, 
and  the  splendor  of  the  sunshine,  still  lingered  ;  the  glori 
ous  Indian  summer  still  lived  on  through  the  gorgeous 
month  of  October,  and  even  staid  to  welcome  the  arrival 
of  sad  November. 

At  high  noon,  one  day  about  this  time,  Brasilia  was  saun 
tering  slowly  through  her  garden,  trying  to  gather  strength 
and  comfort  from  the  beauty  and  refulgence  of  the  scene 
and  hour,  when  she  suddenly  heard  the  outer  gate  open. 

She  looked  up  to  see  the  cause,  and  she  started  violently 
and  changed  color  ;  for  she  saw — 

Mr.  Richard  Hammond  ! 

He  was  now  walking  up  the  avenue  towards  the  house. 

On  seeing  him,  her  first  natural  emotion  was  that  of 
astonishment ;  her  first  clear  impression  was  that  he  came 
from  her  husband  on  some  errand  to  herself.  All  in  a  tu 
mult  of  delight,  she  hastened  to  meet  him. 

"  Mrs.  Alexander  Lyon,  T  believe,"  said  Dick,  at  a  hazard, 
and  respectfully  raising  his  hat  as  he  came  on  to  greet  her. 

"  Yes,  that  is  my  now  name,"  answered  the  young  matron, 
with  a  smile  and  a  blush  of  happiness,  not  of  confusion,  as 
the  questioner  particularly  noticed. 

"  I  knew  it ! "  he  exclaimed,  emphatically  and  involun 
tarily. 

"  Knew  what  ?  knew  me  ?  "  she  inquired,  pleasantly. 
"  Of  course  you  did.  Why  should  you  not  ?  It  has  been 
but  two  years  since  we  met.  And  I  knew  YOU  at  a  glance." 


888  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Very  likely  j  for  an  old  fellow  like  myself  does  not 
change  in  two  years,  while  a  young  lady  like  you  grows  up 
and  gets  married  in  the  meantime,  which  makes  some  little 
difference,"  answered  Dick,  archly,  partly  to  cover  his  con 
fusion  at  having  spoken  his  thoughts  aloud,  and  partly  to 
procure  her  confirmation  of  what  be  firmly  believed — name 
ly,  that  she  truly  or  falsely  imagined  herself  to  be  a  wife. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  still  blushing  and  smiling,  "Iain 
married ;  and  as  you  know  that  fact,  which  you  could  have 
learned  only  from  my  husband,  of  course  you  come  from  him. 
He  is  well  ?  "  she  inquired,  anxiety  now  betraying  itself  in 
her  look  and  tone. 

"  Quite  well,"  said  Dick,  who  was  now  beginning  to  feel 
the  embarrassment  of  the  duty  he  had  taken  upon  himself 
to  do. 

"  And  you  bring  me  a  letter  from  him  ?  I  have  been 
looking  for  one  by  the  mail ;  but  I  am.  glad  he  sent  it  by 
you?" 

Dick  hesitated  and  looked  confused. 

"  Give  me  my  letter,  please,"  she  said,  holding  out  her 
hand  with  a  smile. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Lyon,  I  regret  to  say  I  have  no  letter  for 
you,"  he  answered,  as  calmly  as  he  could. 

"  No  letter !  "  she  repeated,  with  a  look  of  disappoint 
ment  |  and  she  sank  down  in  the  garden  seat,  because  from 
excess  of  emotion  she  was  unable  to  stand.  Then,  soon 
brightening  up  with  new  hope,  she  exclaimed — "  Oh.  then, 
he  has  charged  you  with  a  message  for  me  !  Sit  down 
here  and  tell  me  all  he  says." 

Dick  took  the  offered  seat,  but  remained  silent. 

"  Now,  then,  Mr.  Hammond,  tell  me  !  tell  me  quickly 
what  does  Alick  say  ?  And,  oh,  forgive  my  impatience  ! 
but  it  has  been  so  long  since  I  have  heard  from  my  hus 
band,  and  I  have  been  so  uneasy  about  him  ! "  she  said, 
and  her  hurried  tones,  her  eager  face  and  trembling  frame, 
all  betrayed  the  excess  of  anxiety  that  agitated  her. 


DICK'S    NEWS.  389 

But  Dick  Hammond  sat  silent  and  immovable,  cursing 
the  fate  that  had  thrust  upon  him  a  duty  he  found  so  hard 
to  perform. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  me  ?  Why  are  you  silent  ? 
Why  do  you  look  so  strangely,  avoiding  my  eyes  ?  What 
is  the  matter  ?  Oh,  Heaven,  what  has  happened  ?  "  she 
cried,  turning  pale  and  beginning  to  twist  her  fingers. 

"  Mrs.  Lyon,"  said  Dick,  with  an  effort,  "  I  have 
neither  letter  nor  message  from  Alexander." 

"Neither  letter  nor  message  from  my  husband?  I 
thought  you  came  from  him  !  I  thought  you  came  with 
his  sanction.  Else  why  are  you  here  at  all  ?  "  she  asked, 
shivering  with  a  vague  alarm. 

"Madam!"  cried  Dick,  jumping  up,  flushing  red,  and, 
between  his  pity  for  her  and  his  rage  at  Alick,  losing  all 
his  self-command  ;  "  Madam,  I  came  here  to  tell  you  that 
Alexander  Lyon  is  a  reproach  to  his  name  and  to  manhood  ! 
and  totally  unworthy  of  your  regard,  or  of  the  notice  of 
any  honest  woman  ! " 

Drusilla  was  struck  dumb. 

For  a  few  moments  she  gazed  at  him  in  blank  wonder, 
while  he  strode  up  and  down  the  garden  walk  before  her, 
wiping  his  brows  and  trying  to  subdue  his  excitement. 
Then  she  arose  slowly,  stretched  out  her  arm,  and  pointing 
to  the  outer  gate  said,  quietly  : 

"  Leave  this  place,  sir." 

He  stopped  in  his  furious  walk  and  looked  at  her.  She 
had  ceased  to  speak,  but  was  still  standing  pale  and  grim 
and  pointing  his  way  out. 

He  felt  that  he  must  keep  his  ground,  arid  do  his  duty  at 
any  cost.  He  was  sorry  that  his  own  rashness  had  raised 
obstacles  in  his  path.  He  approached  her  and  said  : 

"  Madam,  I  take  back  my  words.  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
having  uttered  them.  I  will  beg  it  on  my  bent  knee  to 
content  you.  Forgive  me,  and  consider  my  rash  words  un 
said." 


390  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"Indeed,  I  know  not  how  to  forgive  yon." 
"  But  when  penitence  is  professed  and  forgiveness  asked, 
it  is  a  Christian's  duty  to  extend  it/'  said  Dick,  appealing 
to  her  conscience. 

"Admit,  then,  that  your  words — the  injurious  epithets 
you  dared  to  apply  to  my  husband — were  untrue." 

"Do  you,  who  have  so  much  trust  in  him,  need  to  he 
assure'd  that  the}?-  were  untrue  ?  "  inquired  Dick,  evasively. 
"  2s"o,  indeed,  I  do  not.     I  know  that  Alexander  Lyon  is 
the  very  soul  of  honor." 

Dick  bowed  deeply  and  a  little  ironically,  saying  : 
"But   you    require   a  fuller    apology  than    I    have    yet 
made  ?  " 
"  I  do." 

"  Well,  I  make  it.  I  feel  very  sorry  that  I  forgot  myself 
so  far  as  to  use  those  terms  in  respect  to  the  gentleman  in 
question.  I  take  them  back  unreservedly,  and  I  beg  you, 
as  you  are  a  Christian,  to  forgive  me." 

She  bowed,  still  a  little  coldly,  and  then  said: 
"  Sir,  I  know  that  you  have  come   here  this  morning,  if 
not  directly  from   1113^  husband,  at  least  in  his   interests,  or 
upon  his  affairs.     If  3Tou  are  an  authorized  agent,  pray  ex 
plain  the  nature  of  the  business  that  has  brought  you  here." 
Under  the  forced  calmness  of  her  words  he  perceived  that 
a  terrible  anxiety   was  torturing  her  soul.     He   answered 
gently : 

"Madam,  yes,  I  come  here  on  his  affairs  and  in  his  in 
terests,  since  it  is  certainly  important  to  him  that  he  be 
prevented  from  taking  a  certain  step  that  he  contem 
plates." 

"What  step  is  that?"  she  breathlessly  inquired. 
"  Will  you  permit  me  first  to  see  you  into  the  house  ? 
The  explanation  I  have  to  make  is  not  a  pleasant  one,  and 
you  are  already  something  overcome  by  what  has  passed. 
You  had  better  hear  the  rest  of  what  I  have  to  say  in  your 
own  parlor." 


DICK'S    NEWS.  391 

Drusilla  hesitated.  She  still  resented  the  words  he  had 
used  in  reference  to  her  husband,  although  he  had  recanted 
and  hegged  pardon  ;  and  for  this  reason  she  shrank  from 
taking  him  across  the  threshold  of  her  house.  But  she  re 
flected  that,  as  he  had  assured  her  he  came  upon  Alex 
ander's  affairs  and  in  his  interests,  she  could  do  no  less  than 
open  her  doors  to  his  entrance. 

"  Come,  then,"  she  said,  rising  and  leading  the  way  into 
the  cottage. 

She  walked  very  fast,  her  impatience  overcoming  her 
weariness. 

She  showed  him  into  the  drawing-room  and  signed  him 
into  a  seat,  and  sank  herself  down  on  a  corner  of  the 
sofa,  for  she  was  quite  out  of  breath. 

"Now,  now,  Mr.  Hammond,"  she  exclaimed,  as  soon  as 
she  could  articulate  the  words.  "Explain  yourself!  I 
know  well,  I  knew  from  the  first,  that  you  did  not  come 
here  for  the  sole  purpose  of  making  me  a  call.  I  feel  now 
that  the  nature  of  your  errand  is  painful.  Tell  it  at  once. 
You  must  know  that  anything  is  better  than  suspense.''' 

Dick  attempted  to  answer,  but  looked  in  her  face  and 
failed.  It  was  as  hard  to  obey  her  as  it  would  have  been 
to  gaze  in  the  eyes  of  a  lamb  and  slay  it. 

"Still  silent?"  she  said,  clasping  her  hands.  "Ah, 
Heaven,  do  not  torture  me  so  !  I  have  suffered  so  much 
already  !  so  much,  just  Lord  !  I  can  bear  no  more  !  Tell 
me  your  worst  news  at  once,  and  kill  me  with  it.  It  would 
be  mercy." 

"  Still,  still,  Dick's  answer,  like  Macbeth Js  amen,  "  stuck 
in  his  throat." 

"  Oh,  Heaven,  what  is  this  ?  Why  don't  you  speak  ? 
Alick  !  Alick  !  my  husband  !  You  said  that  he  was  well ! 
Yes,  you  said  so  !  But  the}'  say  of  the  dead  that  they  are 
well !  "  she  cried,  clasping  her  hands,  and  in  her  excessive 
alarm  forgetting  that  Dick  had  certainly,  in  the  early  part 


392  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

of  their  interview,  spoken  of  Alick  as  a  living  man  about  to 
take  an  objectionable  step. 

Her  complexion  curdled  into  white  and  livid  spots,  her 
features  quivered  with  the  intense  agony  of  suspense,  as 
she  stretched  out  her  hands  and  gasped  forth  the  word: 

"  Tell— tell— is  Alick— DEAD  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  thundered  Dick,  emphatically,  as  he  found  his 
voice,  "  he  is  not  !  No  such  good  luck.  The  rope  is  not 
ready  for  him  yet,"  he  added,  under  his  breath. 

She  heard  only  the  first  words  of  his  reply. 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that,  at  least.  It  is  well  to  know 
that.  I  think  now  I  can  bear  everything  else,"  she  sighed, 
as  the  tension  of  her  nerves  relaxed,  and  she  sank  down 
among  the  cushions  and  closed  her  eyes.  This  reaction 
from  her  illogical  but  deadly  terror  was  so  great,  that  she 
nearly  swooned.  And  now  to  feel  certain  that  he  was  alive 
and  well  seemed  all  sufficient  for  her  satisfaction. 

Dick  did  not  disturb  her  by  a  word,  look,  or  gesture.  He 
was  pleased  to  put  off  the  evil  hour  of  explanation  as  long 
as  possible,  even  if  it  were  to  be  forever ;  and  he  mentally 
bemoaned  the  hardship  of  the  duty  he  felt  compelled  to  do, 
and  he  wished  himself  anywhere  else  but  where  he  was. 

In  a  few  minutes  Drusilla  recovered  herself,  and  with  an 
effort  sat  up  and  said  : 

"  Mr.  Hammond,  you  assure  me  that  my  husband  is 
alive  and  well ;  as  indeed  I  ought  to  have  known  from  your 
previous  conversation  ;  only  that  in  my  sudden  alarm  I  did 
not  remember  it.  I  am  not  very  rational,  I  think.  But 
now  that  my  fears  for  his  safety  are  set  at  rest,  I  do  not 
dread  to  hear  any  other  ill  news  that  you  may  have  to  tell 
me.  So  speak  out  freely  and  without  fear  for  me.  I  am 
strong  enough  to  sustain  the  shock  of  common  calamities/7 
she  added,  with  a  smile. 

And  in  saying  these  words,  she  only  thought  of  Mr. 
Lyon's  supposed  lawsuit,  "  connected  with  his  late  father's 


DICK'S    NEWS.  393 

will,"  and  she  fancied  that  Dick  had  come  to  tell  her  of  its 
failure. 

"  Then  I  will  do  so,  Mrs.  Lyon — Drusilla  !  I  wish  you 
would  let  me  call  you  so,  as  I  used  to  do  when  you  were  a 
little  child,"  said  Dick,  gently  and  gravely. 

"  You  may  call  me  anything  that  my  husband  will 
permit,  Mr.  Hammond.  But  until  you  have  his  sanction, 
you  must  call  me  Mrs.  Lyon." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  child,"  said  Dick,  mournfully,  "  I  fear  that 
is  the  very  last  name  he  will  be  willing  to  accord  you." 

"  What  is  it  that  you  say,  sir  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
questioned  Drusilla,  in  a  low,  breathless,  hurried  tone,  as 
with  his  words  there  rushed  upon  Tier  mind  the  recollection 
of  her  husband's  cruel  letter,  in  which  he  had  declared  his 
union  with  her  to  be  illegal,  null  and  void,  and  to  have 
always  been  so.  And  now  she  instantly  connected  Ham 
mond's  visit  and  his  untold  news  with  that  letter  and  its 
cruel  communications.  And  she  wondered  if  Dick  knew 
anything  about  Alick's  supposed  monomania ;  and  if  so, 
whether  he  rightly  understood  it,  or  whether  he  was  milled 
by  it. 

As  Dick  did  not  immediately  answer  her  questions,  she 
spoke  to  him  again. 

"  Why  do  you  not  reply  to  me,  Mr.  Hammond  ?  " 

"  Ah,  my  poor  child  !  my  dear  child  !  you  readily  sur 
mised  that  I  had  painful  matters  to  communicate,  but  you 
never  divined  how  painful,"  said  Dick,  sorrowfully. 

"  You  alarm  me  again.  For  Heaven's  sake,  speak  and 
shorten  this  torture,"  she  pleaded. 

"  You  believe  yourself  to  be  the  wife  of  Alexander 
Lyon?"  said  Dick,  modulating  his  voice  to  a  tone  of  the 
deepest  and  most  respectful  sympathy. 

"  l  Believe,'  sir  ?  I  am  so,"  answered  Drusilla,  drawing 
herself  up  with  a  proud  and  confident  smile. 

"  I  feel  assured   that  you  think   as  you  say.     My   long 


394  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

knowledge  of  you,  my  earnest  esteem  for  JTOU  will  not 
permit  me  to  question  your  good  faith.  But  my  poor 
Drusilla,  my  dear  girl,  I  fear,  I  greatly  fear  that  you  are 


mistaken." 


"  I  am  not,  sir.  I  cannot  be  mistaken  on  such  a  subject," 
answered  Drusilla.  And  as  all  the  deep  dishonor  implied 
in  the  doubt  rushed  over  her  mind,  her  face  and  neck  were 
suffused  with  the  crimson  flush  of  wounded  delicacy  and 
offended  pride,  and  she  added,  "  You  must  know,  sir,  that 
to  question  my  wifehood  is  to  insult  me." 

"  Heaven  is  my  witness,  how  far  from  my  heart  is  the 
wish  to  offend  you,  how  profound  and  respectful  is  my  sym 
pathy  Jor  you,  and  how  deeply  it  pains  me  to  give  you  pain. 
But  I  must  do  my  duty.  Most  willingly  would  I  have 
avoided  this  task,  if  I  could  have  done  so ;  but  I  could  not. 
And  I  come  to  serve  and  to  save  you,  and  one  who  is  dearer 
to  me  than  all  others  besides,"  said  Dick,  earnestly. 

"  I  think  I  know  why  you  speak  to  me  in  this  manner. 
You  have  suffered  yourself  to  be  misled  by  the  transient 
imaginings  of  a  monomaniac,  who  is  so  sane  on  all  other 
subjects,  and  with  one  exception  so  strong  and  clear  in 
j-udgmcnt  and  understanding,  that  you  have  failed  to  dis 
cover  his  hallucination  to  be  what  it  is.  But  I  will  soon 
convince  you  that  is  is  you  who  are  mistaken,  and  not  I," 
replied  Drusilla,  with  much  dignity. 

And  she  drew  from  her  bosom  the  little  black  silk  bag, 
took  from  it  the  small  piece  of  paper  and  placed  it  in  the 
hands  of  her  visitor,  saying  : 

"  There,  Mr.  Hammond,  read  that,  and  confess  that  you 
have  alarmed  yourself  for  nothing." 

Dick,  who  had  been  listening  to  her  and  watching  her  in 
wonder  and  curiosity,  took  the  paper,  and  with  a  bow,  began 
to  examine  it.  As  he  read  it  slowly  and  attentively,  he 
gathered  his  brows  into  a  thoughtful  and  troubled  frown, 
and  as  he  finished  it,  he  looked  at  her  with  a  compassionate 
expression  and  inquired : 


DICK'S    NEWS.  3 

.1 

fl  My  dear  chim,  how  came  this  little  document  into  yc 
keeping  ?  " 

"  I  found  it  while  clearing  out  Alick's  dressing-glass 
drawer.  And  as  it  was  as  much  mine  as  his,  and  as  he  did 
not  seem  to  set  much  value  on  it,  judging  by  the  place  in 
which  he  left  it,  I  took  possession  of  it.  And  I  am  very 
glad  now  that  I  have  it  to  show  you,"  she  answered,  smil 
ing  confidently. 

"  Because  you  consider  it  a  proof  positive  of  your  mar 
riage  ?  "  he  inquired,  gravely. 

"  Why,  of  course.  And  so  it  is,"  she  exclaimed,  triumph 
antly.  "  Why,  look  at  it !  Bead  it !  It  is  quite  plain  and 
conclusive  !  A  child  could  comprehend  it !  Don't  you  see 
for  yourself  that  this  is  the  most  positive  proof  of  my  mar 
riage  that  could  possibly  be  produced  ?  " 

"  No,  Drusilla,"  he  answered,  mournfully,  "  I  see  nothing 
of  the  sort.  Quite  the  contrary." 

"  Then  you  don't  understand  English  when  you  see  it !  " 
retorted  the  sorely  tried  young  creature,  losing  a  little  of 
her  saintly  patience. 

"  I  understand  this,  but  too  well  \  "  replied  Dick,  grimly 
regarding  the  document  that  he  still  held  in  his  hand. 

"  In  mercy's  name,  what  do  you  mean  now  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  this  piece  of  paper  proves  no  marriage. 
It  only  indicates  that  at  the  time  of  its  being  filled  ,  out, 
Lyon  probably  had  sincere  intention  to  marry  you.  But  so 
far  from  its  being  a  proof  of  your  marriage,  as  it  lies  here 
before  us,  it  affords  an  incontrovertible  evidence  that  no 
such  marriage  ever  took  place  !  " 

"Come!  what  next,  I  wonder?  Are  you  also  a  mono 
maniac  on  this  subject?  And  is  madness  infectious?  If 
so,  pray  leave  my  presence  before  you  inoculate  me  with 
the  same  mania  !  " 

"  I  would  to  Heaven  that  you  were  right  and  that  I  were 
talking  at  random  !  But  it  is  not  so,  Drusilla  !  '  I  speak 


806  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

the  words  of  truth  and  soberness.'  This  -.document  proves 
that,, you  were  never  married/'  said  Hammond,  with  as 
much  earnestness  as  sadness. 

"  You  are  raving  !  In  the  name  of  reason  how  can  you 
talk  so  frantically?  That  paper,  of  all  things  in  the 
world,  proves  I  never  was  married  ?  Can  any  thing  in  the 
universe  prove  that  I  was  never  married,  when  I  know  I 
was  ?  I  am  not  a  fool,  or  a  lunatic,  or  a  visionary,  to 
imagine  things  that  never  happened.  I  saw  and  heard 
myself  married  to  Alick  by  a  regularly  ordained  minister, 
with  a  special  license,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  dozen 
witnesses.  You  talk  wildly,  Mr.  Hammond  !  Yes,  and 
very  offensively  !  "  she  added. 

"  I  beg  you  to  forgive  me  and  to  bear  with  me,  Drusilla," 
he  answered  sadly,  "  but " 

"  Call  me  by  my  husband's  name  !  I  have  a  right  to 
it ! "  interrupted  the  young  matron,  proudly,  but  mourn 
fully. 

"Yes,  Heaven  knows  that  you  have  a  right  to  it !  The 
holiest,  if  not  the  most  lawful  right,  and  I  cannot  refuse 
it  to  you.  But,  Mrs.  Lyon,  as  I  told  you,  I  came  here  to 
serve  and  to  save  yoii+  if  possible,  and  also  one  who  is 
dearest  of  all  to  me  ;  so  in  her  service  and  in  yours,  I 
must  convince  you  of  the  truth  of  what  I  have  just  said, 
however  distressing  it  may  be  for  me  to  press,  or  for  you  to 
believe,"  said  Dick,  solemnly. 

The  earnestness  and  solemnity  of  his  words  deeply 
impressed  her.  A  new  terror  struck  all  the  color  from  her 
face — doubtj  like  the  iron,  entered  her  soul.  She  gazed  at 
him  transfixed. 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Hammond,  turning  away  his  eyes  that 
he  might  not  meet  the  agonizing  appeal  in  hers.  "  It  is  so. 

You  onyht  to  be,  but  you  are  not  the  wife  of  Alexander 
Lyon." 

"  Not  his  wife— not  Alick's  wife  !     Oh,  Alick,  Alick  !  my 


DICK'S    NEWS.  397 

own  !  my  dear  !  my  love  !  my  husband !  I  am  your  wife  ! 
I  am — I  am  !  "  cried  the  wronged  and  wretched  young 
creature,  with  a  sob  and  a  gasp,  as  she  sank  back  among 
her  cushions. 

Dick  could  have  wept  for  company,  but  he  only  cursed 
Alick  and  pitied  her,  while  he  watched  and  waited  for  her 
to  recover  herself. 

Ah  !  how  many  tears  she  had  shed  in  her  short  married 
life  of  less  than  a  year  ! 

Presently  her  anguish  broke  forth  in  a  sharp  and  bitter 
cry  : 

"  Why,  oh  why,  do  you  say  such  terrible  things  to  me, 
Mr.  Hammond  ?  " 

"Because  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  you  should 
know  them,"  he  answered,  kindly. 

"  Have  you  no  pity — none — that  you  drive  this  sorrow 
like  a  sword  into  my  heart  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Heaven  knows  how  much  pity  and  how  much  respect  I 
have  for  you,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  what — oh  what,"  she  sobbed,  wringing  her  hands 
in  her  agony,  "  oh,  what  makes  you  say  that  I  am  not  his 
wife — not  my  dear  Alick's  wife  ?  When  I  told  you — I  told 
you  how  I  was  married  ;  with  a  special  license,  by  a  regu 
larly-ordained  minister,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  dozen 
witnesses  ?  How  can  you  say,  in  the  face  of  all  this,  that 
I  am  not  Alick's  wife  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Drusilla,  on  my  honor  as  a  gentleman,  by  my 
knowledge  as  a  lawyer,  and  on  my  faith  as  a  Christian,  I 
assure  you,  that  though  your  nuptial  ceremony  had  been 
pronounced  by  a  bishop,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  thousand 
witnesses,  the  very  existence  of  this  little  document  as  it 
lies  before  us  proves  that  ceremony  to  have  been  illegal  and 
of  no  effect." 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  gazed  on  him  with  such  a  look 
of  unutterable  woe  in  her  voice,  that  he  could  no  more  bear 


SO 8  T  Tl  E      C  II  A  !NT  G  E  D      B  K  I  I)  E  S  . 

to  meet  her  eyes  than  could  the  heroes  of  old  endure  Me 
dusa's  glance  and  live.  Yet  withal  she  was  now  very  calm, 
though  with  a  calmness  that  was  but  a  restrained  frenzy  ; 
but  it  must  have  deceived  Dick  as  to  her  powers  of  endur 
ance,  or  he  would  not  have  driven  the  spear  home  to  her 
heart  as  in  a  few  moments  he  did. 

"  And  Alick  knew  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  am  not  sure  he  knew  it  or  thought  of  it  on  the 
wedding-day.  But  I  am  sure  that  he  knows  it  now/' 
sighed  Dick. 

"And  so  his  fancy  was  a  fact  after  all;  and  he  was  no 
monomaniac?" 

"  No,  he  was  no  monomaniac/'  said  Dick.  "  He  was 
only  a  scoundrel,"  he  added,  under  his  breath. 

"  Alick  knows  this  !  Then  this  is  the  discovery  he  made 
in  March  ?  " 

"  Probably,  if  he  made  any." 

"  He  told  me  he  had  discovered  then  our  marriage  was 
not  legal.  He  has  absented  himself  from  me  ever  since. 
Heaven  help  me !  I  thought  he  was  suffering  from  a 
hallucination  that  would  pass  away.  And  it  was  a 
reality  ! " 

"  Yes,  it  was,"  said  Dick,  wondering  at  her  apparent 
composure  and  misled  by  it. 

"  But  Alick  will  remedy  the  evil  now.  He  will  marry 
me  over  again.  You  know  he  will,  Mr.  Hammond  ?  " 

"  I  know  he  ought  to  do  so ;  I  know  he  is  bound  by  the 
holiest  obligations  that  can  bind  a  man  to  do  so ;  I  know  if 
he  had  one  spark  of  honor  in  him  he  icould  do  so ;  but  I  do 
not  believe  he  will,"  growled  Dick. 

"  Hovv  dare  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  Because  if  he  had  the  slightest  intention  of  doing  you 
justice,  he  would  never  even  dream  of  the  step  he  is  now 
actually  about  to  take,  and  of  which  I  came  I1, ere  on  pur 
pose  to  warn  you." 


DICK'S    NEWS.  399 

"What  step?  You  said  something  of  this  when  you 
first  arrived.  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  A  step  which,  (were  you  his  wife,  as  you  ought  in  jus 
tice  to  be)  would  take  him  across  the  threshold  of  a 
state's  prison,  for  it  would  be  a  felony,"  answered  Ham 
mond,  speaking  distinctly  and  emphatically,  and  hoping 
that  she  would  understand  him,  and  save  him  the  pain  of  a 
more  particular  explanation. 

But  she  did  not  even  suspect  his  meaning.  She  only 
clasped  her  hands,  and  gazed  at  him  with  piteous  and 
beseeching  eyes,  and  murmured : 

"  What  is  it  ?     Speak  plainly." 

He  turned  away  his  head  that  he  might  not  witness  her 
despair,  as  he  replied  : 

"  Pie  is  about  to  take  advantage  of  the  discovery  lie  has 
made  by  marrying  Miss  Anna  Ly " 

His  words  were  cut  short  by  a  piercing  shriek  that  rang 
like  the  cry  of  a  lost  soul  through  the  air.  He  started  up 
and  confronted  Drusilla. 

She  was  standing  before  him,  in  motionless,  speechless 
anguish.  Her  face  was  blanched  to  the  hue  of  death,  her 
eyes  were  dilated  and  strained,  her  hands  were  extended, 
her  form  rigid.  As  one  struck  with  catalepsy,  for  a  moment 
she  stood  thus,  and  then  fell. 

Hammond  caught  her  before  she  struck  the  floor,  and 
laid  her  tenderly  on  the  sofa,  and  then  in  great  alarm,  he 
rang  for  assistance. 

Her  servants  were  at  that  hour  gathered  around  the 
kitchen  table  eating  their  dinner,  and  talking  of  the  strange 
visitor  whom  they  had  all  seen  enter  the  house  in  company 
with  their  mistress.  They  heard  the  shriek  that  rang 
through  the  air,  followed  by  the  loud  peals  of  the  parlor- 
bell,  and  they  started  up  in  a  body  and  ran  to  see  what  the 
matter  could  be. 

They  found  their  mistress  in  a  swoon  on  the  sofa,  and  a 


400  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

strange  gentleman  standing  over  her,  beside  himself  with 
fear  and  grief. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  do  something.  I  fear  Mrs.  Lyon  is 
dying  or  dead  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

'•'What  caused  it,  sir?"  demanded  "mammy,"  putting 
aside  the  intruder,  and  kneeling  down  to  examine  her 
patient. 

"I  was  so  unhappy  as  to  be  the  bearer  of  bad  news  to 
her,"  Dick  confessed. 

"  Then,  sir,  you  ought  to  a-knowed  better  than  for  to  a- 
told  it  to  her  in  her  state  of  health.  It  may  a-killed  her," 
said  the  nurse  severely,  as  is  the  custom  of  her  class  in 
rebuking  the  commom  enemy. 

Dick  looked  guilty  and  wretched. 

Piria  pitied  him. 

11  No,  mammy,  it  aint  killed  her — she  aint  dead;  'deed 
she  aint,  mammy.  She's  only  in  one  of  her  fainty  fits. 
She's  subject  to  'em,  mammy,"  said  the  girl. 

"  You  hold  your  tongue,  gal.  What  do  you  know  ? 
Come  here  and  help  me  to  rub  her  hands.  And  Mr.  Leo, 
you  go  'bout  your  business.  What  call  you  go  to  be  poking 
'round  where  there's  a  lady  sick  ?  And  you,  sir,"  said 
mammy,  turning  to  the  unhappy  Dick,  "  now  you's  done 
all  the  harm  you  can  do,  you  go  'way  too." 

Dick  turned  a  long,  lingering  look  to  the  inanimate  form 
on  the  sofa,  and  then  reluctantly  followed  his  companion  in 
banishment  from  the  room. 

When  they  reached  the  hall,  Leo  politely  opened  the 
front  door  for  the  exit  of  the  visitor. 

But  Dick  loitered. 

"  Come  here,  boy,"  he  said,  beckoning  Leo  close  to  his 
side.  "  Is  your  mistress  really  subject  to  these  swooning 
fits?" 

"  Yes  sir  ;  and  so  has  been  ever  since  master  took  to  his 
ways,"  answered  the  boy,  sulkily,  because  for  the  time 


DICK'S    NEWS.  401 

being  he  hated  all  mankind;  and,  most  of  all,  his  master, 
for  his  mistress's  sake. 

"  What  ways  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  Gentlemen's  ways,  sir,"  growled  Leo. 

"  But — she  gets  over  these  attacks  ?  "  asked  Dick,  anx 
iously. 

The  boy  looked  at  the  questioner  askance,  and  answered, 
ironically  : 

"  No,  Sir ;  slight  as  they  is,  she  allus  dies  of  'em." 

Dick  smiled,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  trouble,  and  said : 

"  Come,  I  pardon  your  impertinence  for  the  sake  of  the 
regard  that  I  see  you  bear  your  mistress.  Don't  mock  me 
again,  but  answer  me  truly — these  swoons  are  not  danger 
ous,  are  the}^  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I  don't  think  they  is.  The  women  allus  gets 
her  out  of  'em  in  an  hour  or  so,"  said  Leo,  somewhat  molli 
fied  by  the  sincere  interest  this  stranger  took  in  his  mis 
tress. 

"  Well,  my  boy,  when  your  mistress  is  quite  well,  say  to 
morrow  morning,  if  she  is  well  enough  to  be  up,  I  wish  you 
to  give  her  this  packet,"  said  Dick  offering  Leo  a  large, 
long,  well-filled  yellow  envelope. 

Leo  backed  several  paces,  and  put  his  hands  behind 
him. 

"  What's  that  for ?  "  inquired  the  visitor.  "Why  don't 
you  take  this  ?  " 

"  Is  it  a  writ  ?  "  asked  the  boy. 

Dick  laughed  now. 

"  No,  stupid !  I  have  been  more  used  to  having  writs 
served  upon  me,  than  to  serving  them  upon  others.  Do  I 
look  like  a  bum  baillie  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  Well,  then,  take  this  and  give  it  to  your  mistress  when 
she  gets  better." 
25 


402  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

But  the  boy  backed  farther,  and  kept  his  hands  behind 
him. 

"  Are  you  crazy  ?  "  asked  Dick,  impatiently. 

"  No,  sir ;  but  I  want  to  know  what  is  in  that  there 
yaller  hang-wallop,  before  I  tetches  of  it  to  take  it  to  my 
mist'ess,  'cause  she's  been  put  upon  bad  enough  a'ready,  the 
dear  knows/'  said  Leo,  stubbornly. 

Mr.  Hammond  good-humoredly  opened  the  yellow  en 
velope,  and  for  the  boy's  satisfaction  displayed  its  contents, 
which  consisted  of  two  open  letters,  one  sealed  letter  and  a 
newspaper. 

"  There,"  he  said,  as  he  replaced  them,  "  you  see  there  is 
nothing  very  dangerous  in  the  packet.  It  is  for  your  mis 
tress's  benefit  that  I  wish  to  send  it." 

"  Well,  sir,  I'll  take  it  to  her ;  and  I  hope,  sir,  you'll 
'scuse  me  for  hanging  back  and  doubting,"  said  Leo. 

"  Certainly  ;  I  respect  your  scruples,  and  I  like  you  all 
the  better  for  your  fidelity  to  your  mistress.  And  now, 
listen.  I  want  you  to  do  something  else  for  me." 

«  Yes,  sir." 

«  You  know  the  <  Drovers'  Eest  ?  '  " 

"  Is  it  that  little  shady  inn  on  the  road,  just  before  you 
turn  into  our  woods,  sir  ?  " 

"  The  very  same  ;  it  is  the  only  inn  within  half  a  mile. 
I  shall  wait  there  until  evening  to  hear  how  your  mistress 
is.  Do  you  think  you  can  slip  across  there  to  bring  me 
news  of  her  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  I'll  try,  sir — yes,  sir,  I'll  come,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  first 
hesitating,  and  then  consenting. 

"  Thank  you.  Don't  forget  to  do  so,"  said  Mr.  Ham 
mond,  dropping  a  small  gold  coin  into  Leo's  hand,  and  then 
hurrying  from  the  house. 


PROOFS.  403 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

PROOFS. 

Concealment  is  no  more;  facts  speak 

All  circumstance  that  may  compel 

Full  credence  to  the  tale  they  tell, 

And  now  her  tortured  heart  and  ear, 

Hath  nothing  more  to  feel,  or  hear. — BYKON. 

IT  was  long,  very  long,  before  the  most  strenuous  and 
persevering  efforts  of  her  servants  could  bring  the  stricken 
and  unconscious  sufferer  back  to  consciousness.  As  always 
before,  the  return  to  sensibility  was  but  the  return  to 
sorrow.  But  the  nurse  prepared  a  dose  of  morphine,  and, 
murmuring  to  her  of  her  babe,  persuaded  her  to  take  it. 
And  soon  she  was  buried  in  the  blessed  oblivion  of  sleep. 

Leo  sat  over  the  kitchen  fire,  wishing  himself  a  man  and 
a  white  man,  that  he  might  avenge  the  wrongs  of  his  wor 
shipped  mistress.  In  his  small  way,  very  much  as  the 
child  Willie  Douglas  felt  towards  the  beautiful  and  dis 
crowned  Mary  Stuart,  felt  this  poor  fellow  towards  the 
wronged  lady  of  his  own  allegiance.  Late  in  the  evening, 
to  him,  sitting  there,  came  Pin  a. 

"  Well,  and  how  is  she  now  ?  "  inquired  the  boy. 

"  Gone  to  bed.  Mammy  give  her  something  to  put  her 
to  sleep.  Mammy  knows  what  to  do.  My  goodness,  Leo, 
what  a  blessing  it  is  that  we  fetched  mammy  to  her  !  " 

"Yes,  indeed,  that  it  was,  Pina." 

"  And  now' you  clear  out  here.  I  want  to  get  some  sup 
per  ready  for  mammy  to  eat.  She  hasn't  had  no  dinner, 
nor  even  a  mortal  bite  since  breakfast.  My  gracious,  what 
a  tiresome  thing  it  is  to  have  a  house  always  up  side  down 
like  ours.  Just  as  if  there  was  a  somebody  a  being  buried 
or  a  being  borned  every  day  in  the  week  !  and  all  on 
account  of  that  man  !  Yes,  I  will  call  him  'that  man,'  if 


40-t  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

I'm  hashed  for  it ! — that  man  !  that  man  !  that  man  ! 
there,  now !  And  I  don't  see  no  use  no  men  ever  is,  'cept 
'tis  to  make  a  fuss  in  the  family  !  And  I  know  as  the 
Lord  made  the  wimmin  ;  but  I  b'lieve  in  my  heart  and  soul 
the  debil  made  all  the  men,  jest  to  spile  the  Lord's  work  ! 
And  I  wish  there  wasn't  a  man  in  the  world,  'cept  'tis  you, 
Leo,  and  Cousin  Charley,  and  daddy  !  So  there,  now ! 
And  now  why  don't  you  go  'bout  your  business  and  leave 
me  room  to  move  'round  the  range  and  get  supper  ?  " 

Leo,  with  a  certain  sense  of  shame  in  belonging  to  that 
offending  and  prescribed  sex  created  by  the  devil  for  the 
confusion  of  the  world,  gladly  took  himself  out  of  the 
kitchen  and  went  to  keep  his  appointment  with  his  fellow 
sinner. 

He  found  Mr.  Richard  Hammond  in  the  little  back  par 
lor  of  the  suburban  inn. 

Dick  was  seated  at  a  table ;  with  writing  materials,  and 
also,  alas !  with  brandy,  tobacco  and  pipes  before  him. 

"Your  mistress?  I  hope  she  is  better?"  exclaimed 
Dick,  eagerly,  on  seeing  his  messenger. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  the  wimmin,  they  have  fetched  her  out'n  her 
fainty  fit  all  right,  and  they  have  put  her  to  sleep  comfort 
able,"  replied  the  boy. 

"Thank  Heaven  !"  exclaimed  Dick. 

"  Well,  sir,  that  is  all  I  have  to  tell  you ;  and  now,  as  I 
may  be  missed,  I  think  I  had  better  hurry  back,"  said 
Leo. 

"  Wait ;  here  is  a  letter  I  wish  you  to  take  to  your  mis 
tress." 

"  Another  one,  sir  ?  "  inquired  the  boy,  distrustfully. 

"  Yes  ;  but  this  letter  is  to  prepare  her  for  the  receipt  of 
the  packet.  I  wish  you  to  give  her  this  letter  first.  And 
after  she  has  read  it,  hand  her  the  packet." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"And  here  is  your  reward,"  said  Mr.  Hammond,  putting 
a  piece  of  gold  in  the  boy's  hand. 


PROOFS.  405 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I  don't  like  to  take  any  pay  for  serv 
ing  of  her/'  said  Leo,  hesitatingly. 

"Nonsense!  Take  it  for  serving  me,  then/'  laughed 
Dick,  forcing  the  money  upon  the  youth. 

Leo  pocketed  the  fee,  and  hurried  home. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  he  reached  the  house. 

All  that  night  mammy  sat  up  and  watched  by  the  bed 
side  of  her  charge.  Drusilla  slept  soundly  and  late. 

All  dreaded  her  awakening.  But  to  the  surprise  and 
relief  of  her  attendants,  she  awoke  quite  calmly  ;  though 
whether  her  quietude  was  the  lethargy  produced  by  the  con 
tinued  influence  of  the  morphine,  or  whether  it  was  the 
apathy  of  despair,  it  wras  hard  to  tell.  She  permitted  the 
nurse  to  bathe  her  face  and  hands,  and  tosmoothe  her  hair. 
She  partook  slightly  of  the  light  breakfast  that  was  brought 
her.  But  beyond  these  she  scarcely  moved,  looked  or  spoke. 
After  an  hour  or  two  she  intimated  that  she  would  rise  ;  and, 
with  the  assistance  of  her  nurse,  she  got  up,  dressed  herself, 
and  went  to  her  easy  chair.  And  there  she  sat,  pale,  mute, 
and  still  as  death. 

"  Mammy,"  whispered  Pina,  "  speak  to  her — make  her 
talk.  Indeed  it  scares  me  all  but  to  death  to  see  her  that 
a- way." 

"  Hush,"  muttered  the  nurse,  "let  her  alone.  '  It's  ill 
waking  sleeping  dogs ' — which  I  mean  to  say,  long  as  she's 
quiet  be  thankful  for  it,  and  don't  'sturb  her." 

"  But  I'd  rather  see  her  cry,  and  scream,  and  rave,  than 
see  her  so." 

"  That's  because  you's  a  fool ;  for  I  hadn't,  and  that'-s  a 
fact,  in  her  sitivation,  too !  Go  'long  gal ;  what  you 
know  ?  " 

Meanwhile,  Leo  watched  for  an  opportunity  to  execute  the 
commission  entrusted  to  him.  Pie  did  not  find  one  until 
the  afternoon,  when  mammy  and  Pina  being  seated  at  their 
early  dinner,  sent  Leo  with  an  armful  of  wood  up  to  the 
lady's  chamber  to  replenish  the  fire. 


406  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

When  the  bo}r  had  done  that  duty,  swept  up  the  hearth, 
and  replaced  the  shovel  and  tongs,  he  turned  to  where  his 
mistress  sat,  in  her  chair,  pale,  silent,  and  motionless  as  a 
statue,  and  he  drew  the  letter  from  his  pocket,  and  offered 
her,  saying,  respectfully  : 

"  From  the  gentleman  who  was  here  yesterday,  ma'am." 

Drusilla  mechanically  took  the  letter,  and  stared  blankly 
at  the  boy  for  a  moment. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  "  she  inquired,  as  she  broke 
the  seal  5  and  her  voice  sounded  strangely  to  her  attendant 
as  she  asked  the  question. 

"From  the  gentleman  who  was  here  yesterday,  ma/ am, 
as  I  said,"  repeated  Leo. 

«  Is  he  here  to-day  ?  " 

"ISTo,  ma'am." 

"When  then  did  you  get  this  ?  " 

li  Yesterday,  ma'am,  before  he  left  the  neighborhood," 
answered  the  boy. 

Drusilla  read  the  letter.  It  was  directed  very  formally 
to  Mrs.  Alexander  Lyon,  Cedarwood  Cottage.  It  ran  thus  : 

DEOVEBS'  REST,  Tuesday  Evening. 

MY  DEAREST  LADY. — As  the  executioner,  kneeling,  begs 
pardon  of  the  victim  he  is  about  to  slay,  so  humbly  at  your 
feet  I  would  implore  forgiveness  for  the  blow  I  am  fated  to 
strike  you,  as  well  as  for  all  the  pain  I  have  already  been 
forced  to  give  you.  Bat  after  having  stated  some  strange 
facts  to  you,  I  feel  bound  to  prove  the  truth  of  my  state 
ment.  The  bearer  of  this  will  also  deliver  to  you  certain 
papers,  to  which  I  beg  leave  to  call  your  particular  atten 
tion.  Your  own  pure  spirit  will  teach  you  how  to  act  in 
the  premises.  And  now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Lyon,  I  can  not 
close  this  letter  without  entreating  you  to  remember,  and  to 
take  comfort  in  the  remembrance,  that  in  this  great  trial  of 
yours  you  are  only  the  sufferer,  not  the  sinner ;  that  in  the 


PROOFS.  407 

judgment  of  all  good  and  honorable  people  you  will  be  held 
blameless.  And  as  for  myself,  here  in  all  honesty  of  pur 
pose,  as  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  I  offer  you  my  utmost  ser 
vices.  All  that  a  brother  might  do  for  a  beloved  sister,  or  a 
father  for  an  idolized  daughter  in  her  distress,  I  will  do  for 
you.  I  and  all  I  possess  shall  be  at  your  commands ;  and 
my  business  and  my  pleasure  shall  at  any  time  give  way  to 
your  requirements  of  me.  A  letter  directed  to  me  at  the 
general  post-office,  Washington,  will  always  find  me,  where- 
ever  I  may  be,  and  always  as  Your  respectful  friend, 

RICHARD  HAMMOND. 

Drusilla  read  .this  letter,  and  with  a  sigh,  but  without  a 
syllable,  she  laid  it  aside,  and  held  out  her  hand  to  Leo, 
saying: 

"  Give  me  the  other  papers." 

The  boy  drew  from  his  pocket  the  large,  yellow  envelope, 
and  delivered  it  to  her. 

She  opened  it  and  emptied  out  its  contents.  The  first 
that  caught  her  eye  was  a  newspaper  with  a  marked  passage 
in  it.  She  took  it  up.  It  was  the  Valley  Courier,  a  little 
local  journal  published  in  the  county  town  near  the  country- 
seat  of  General  Lyon.  And  the  marked  passage  was  as 
follows  : 

MARRIAGE  iisr  HIGH  LIFE.— We  understand  that  Alexander 
Lyon,  Esq.,  of  Crow  Wood,  only  son  and  heir  of  the  late  eminent 
Chief  Justice  of  that  name,  is  about  to  lead  to  the  hymeneal  altar 
his  cousin,  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  Anna,  the  grand 
daughter  and  sole  heiress  of  the  veteran  General  Lyon,  of  old  Lyon 
Hall  and  of  Revolutionary  celebrity.  The  engagement  has  been  of 
long  standing,  the  nuptials  having  been  twice  arrested  by  the  hand 
of  death.  Now  however,  we  are  happy  to  learn  that,  both  at  Crow 
Wood,  the  seat  of  the  bridegroom,  and  at  Old  Lyon  Hall,  the 
home  of  the  bride,  the  most  splendid  preparations  are  on  foot  in 
honor  of  the  joyful  occasion. 

Drusilla  read  this  article  and,  without  a  word  of  com 
ment,  a  movement  of  feature,  or  a  change  of  color,  she  put  it 
down  and  took  up  a  letter  with  a  broken  seal.  She  unfold- 


408  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

ed  and  read  it.     It  was  from   General  Lyon  to  Richard 
Hammond. 

OLD  LYON  HALL,  Nov.  1, 18 — . 

MY  DEAR  DICK  : — Alick  and  Anna  are  to  be  married 
on  Thursday,  the  fifteenth  instant.  And  now,  my  dear  boy, 
I  wish  you,  with  your  accustomed  frankness  and  good 
humor,  to  "  let  by-gones  be  by-gones,"  and  to  come  down 
and  be  present  at  the  wedding.  I  know  it  will  be  painful 
to  you ;  but  brave  men  do  not  shrink  from  pain.  And, 
Dick,  you  know  that  there  are  but  four  of  us  left  out  of  all 
the  old  stock — Dick,  Alick,  Anna  and  me.  I  have  long 
passed  the  threescore  and  ten  years  allotted  as  the  natural 
term  of  a  man's  life,  and  so  may  daily  look  for  my  summons 
hence.  Dick,  Alick  and  Anna  seem  to  me  as  niy  own 
children.  Dick,  you  have  never  in  your  life  pleased  me 
with  one  single  sight  of  your  face  at  Old  Lyon  Hall.  I 
know  why  you  have  kept  away,  my  boy.  But  now  I  trust 
you  will  conquer  your  reluctance  and  come,  rather  than 
grieve  the  soul  of  Your  loving  uncle, 

LEONARD  LYON. 

Still  without  a  syllable  of  complaint,  or  a  variation  of 
complexion,  she  let  this  letter  flutter  down  from  her  hand, 
and  she  raised  the  sole  remaining  one. 

This  was  a  sealed  envelope,  directed  to  herself.  She 
broke  the  seal  and  found  an  old  and  closely  written  commu 
nication  from  General  Lyon  to  Richard  Hammond,  which 
it  is  unnecessary  to  give  here  at  length.  It  was  very 
necessary,  however,  for  Drusilla's  knowledge  of  the  whole 
truth  that  she  should  read  every  line  of  it.  So  at  least 
thought  Dick,  and  therefore  he  had  sent  it  to  her  with  the 
others,  but  sealed,  lest  other  eyes  should  see  its  meaning' 
In  this  letter  General  Lyon  spoke  of  the  long  season  in 
Washington  during  which  himself,  Alick,  Anna  and  Dick 
were  always  together.  And  thus  Drusilla,  for  the  first 


PROOFS.  409 

time,  learned  the  true  nature  of  that  "  business  connected 
with  his  late  father's  will "  which  had  taken  Alexander 
daily  and  nightly  from  her  side.  And  now  she  discovered 
the  double  dealing  and  the  deep  dishonor  of  the  man  she 
called  her  husband. 

She  dropped  this  last  letter,  and  it  fell  at  her  feet.  Her 
face  turned  no  paler,  because  in  fact  it  was  already  as  pale 
as  it  could  possibly  be,  and  had  not  a  vestige  of  color  to 
lose. 

She  had  already  suffered  so  much,  so  much  that  it  seemed 
impossible  for  her  to  suffer  more.  Blow  after  blow  had 
fallen  with  cruel  weight  upon  her  young  heart,  until  it 
seemed  benumbed. 

Besides,  what  had  she  learned  now  worse  than  that 
which  she  had  known  and  wept  for  many  days — his 
treachery  to  her  ?  Only  through  the  numbness  of  her 
heart  and  the  dullness  of  her  head,  one  feeling  and  one 
thought  clearly  and  strongly  moved — that  his  marriage 
with  Miss  Lyon  must  be  arrested  and  he  himself  saved 
from  this  last  culmination  of  his  criminal  career. 

The  extremity  of  sorrow,  when  it  does  not  destroy  life  or 
reason,  always  strengthens  the  character.  Such  must  have 
been  its  effect  upon  Drusilla  to  enable  her  to  rise  above  her 
misery  and  her  weakness,  with  the  fixed  determination  to 
go  in  person  to  Old  Lyon  Hall,  for  the  purpose  of  prevent 
ing  that  "  MARRIAGE  IN  HIGH  LIFE  "  which  the  Valley 
Courier  had  announced  to  the  world  with  such  a  grand 
flourish  of  editorial  trumpets. 


410  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 
DKUSILLA'S  DESTINATION. 

One  human  hand  my  own  to  take, 

One  human  heart  my  own  to  raise, 
One  loving  human  voice  to  break 

The  silence  of  my  days. 
Saviour,  if  this  wild  prayer  be  wrong 

And  what  i  seek  1  may  not  find, 
Oh,  make  more  hard,  and  stern,  and  strong 

The  frame-work  of  my  mind! — OWEN  MEREDITH. 

HAVING  finished  reading  all  the  letters  and  papers  ih.at 
had  been  submitted  to  her  examination,,  in  proof  of  the  per 
fidy  of  her  husband,  Drusilla  sat  on,  for  a  few  moments, 
pale,  still,  and  mute.  She  would  not  weep  now — the  foun 
tain  of  her  tears  was  dr}7  at  last.  She  could  scarcely  feel — • 
her  heart  was  stunned  almost  to  insensibility. 

Now  she  knew  the  very  worst.  Now  she  could  not  doubt 
that  her  husband  had  deserted  her  and  that  he  meditated 
the  crime  of  marriage  with  his  cousin  Anna. 

Yes,  the  crime  ! 

For,  notwithstanding  all  that  Richard  Hammond  had 
SPM.  and  thought  to  the  contrary,  she  knew  that  she  herself 
not  only  ought  to  have  been,  in  right — but  really  was,  in 
fact — the  true  wife  of  Alexander  Lyon  ;  and  that  it  was 
but  a  slight  legal  informality,  unsuspected  by  her  and  even 
by  him  at  the  time  of  their  marriage,  of  which  he  was  now 
about  to  avail  himself  in  breaking  the  sacred  bonds  that 
bound  him  to  his  young  wife,  in  order  to  unite  himself  to 
his  wealthy  cousin.  She  knew  that  this  intended  act  would 
be  a  sin,  and  she  feared  that  it  might  be  construed  into  a 
felony.  There  was  an  ugly  word  in  the  dictionary  called 
"  bigamy,"  and  its  penalty  was  uglier  still — the  state's 
prison.  To  save  Alexander  in  his  moral  insanity,  from 
such  guilt  and  such  degradation,  she  resolved  to  go  to  Old 
Lyon  Hall  and  stop  the  intended  marriage,  even  though 
the  adventure  should  cost  her  her  life. 


DBUSILLA'S    DESTINATION.          411 

"  And  the  wedding  is  to  be  celebrated  on  the  evening  of 
the  fifteenth,  and  this  is  the  morning  of  the  fourteenth,  and 
I  have  but  little  more  than  twenty-four  hours  to  do  ail  that 
must  be  done  to  save  him  !  "  she  said,  speaking  her  mind 
aloud,  to  the  infinite  surprise  and  alarm  of  Leo,  who  was 
still  standing  before  her  and  who  now  looked  as  if  he 
thought  his  mistress  had  gone  crazy, — and  "well  she 
might,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  gazed  on  her  where  she 
sat  with  her  hands  clasped  to  her  temples. 

Drusilla  reflected  intently  for  a  few  moments.  There 
were  several  ways  of  reaching  Old  Lyon  Hall,-  one  was  to 
go  by  steamer  down  the  Potomac  to  Chesapeake  Bay  and  up 
James  River  to  the  Stormy  Petrel  landing,  and  then  by 
turnpike  to  the  Porcupine  Mountain ;  another  was  to  take 
the  railway  train  from  Alexandria  to  Richmond,  and  then 
the  stage-coach  across  the  country.  Both  these  routes  were 
favored  by  the  Lyon  family  when  they  had  leisure  and  were 
travelling  for  recreation.  But  both  required  two  days  of 
travel. 

Drusilla  saw  that  she  must  take  the  third,  which  was  the 
shortest  if  the  roughest  route — the  old  line  of  stage 
coaches  running  between  Washington  city  and  Western 
Virginia.  It  is  true  this  road  was  very  dangerous,  especi 
ally  at  night.  It  crossed  the  Blue  Ridge,  the  Shenandoah, 
and  the  Alleghany  mountains.  It  wound  around  terrible 
heights  where  there  were  many  hundred  feet  of  perpendic 
ular  rock  above  and  below,  with  little  width  of  way  between. 
Once  in  a  while  you  heard  of  a  coach  being  crushed  by  the 
fall  of  the  rocks  from  above,  or  dashed  to  pieces  bv  going 
over  the  side  of  the  precipice.  Upon  the  whole  this. was 
not  a  favored  route  with  travellers  who  could  avoid  it.  But 
Drusilla  resolved  to  take  it  because  it  was  the  shortest  to 
her  phree  of  destination,  and  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours 
it  would  take  her  to  a  little  mountain  hamlet  within  ten 
miles  of  Old  Lyon  Hall.  True,  she  might  meet  with  an 


412  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

accident  on  the  road,  but  if  she  should  lose  her  life  she 
might  serve  Alick  by  that  means  as  well  or  better  than  by 
preventing  his  marriage  with  Anna,  since  if  she  (I)ru.silla) 
were  dead,  that  marriage  would  be  no  longer  criminal. 

"  Leo/'  she  inquired,  looking  up  at  the  anxious  boy, 
"  what  is  the  hour  ?  " 

Leo  glanced  at  the  ormolu  clock  on  the  mantle-piece,  and 
answered : 

"  It  is  nearly  one,  ma'am." 

"  Do  you  know  what  time  the  night-coach  for  Western 
Virginia  leaves  Washington  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  time  it  leaves  Washington,  ma'am, 
but  it  passes  through  Alexandry  at  five." 

"  Then  it  must  start  at  about  three  or  half  past.  Leo  ! 
hurry  down  stairs ;  tell  your  mother  and  Pina  to  come  to 
me  immediately.  Then  go  to  the  stable  and  put  the  horses 
to  the  carriage,  and  prepare  yourself  to  drive  me  to  town, 
and  be  as  quick  as  you  possibly  can  ;  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  the  amazed  boy,  making  his 
awkward  bow,  and  going  on  his  errand. 

Drusilla,  with  a  marvellous  new  life  in  her  system,  arose 
and  went  to  her  bureau  drawers  and  began  hastily  to  select 
certain  indispensable  conveniences  for  her  journey,  and  to 
pack  them  into  a  travelling  bag. 

Ah !  at  that  moment,  and  under  those  circumstances, 
what  painful  feelings  that  pretty  Turkey  morocco  bag  awak 
ened  ;  for  "sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow  is  the  memory  of  hap 
pier  days." 

The  bag  had  been  given  to  her  first,  by  old  Mrs.  Lyon, 
when  that  lady  had  hoped  to  take  her  favorite  down  to  old 
Lyon  Hall  to  the  wedding  of  Alick  and  Anna.  And  well 
Drusilla  remembered  how  much  she  was  pleased  with  the 
gift  that  combined  beauty  with  utility  ;  how  nnirl1  ^Le 
admired  its  construction,  with  its  various  pocket  and 
recesses  for  the  reception  of  all  sorts  of  travelling  iK'ce^n- 


DRUSILLA'S    DESTINATION.          413 

ties.  But  she  never  went  down  to  that  wedding,  which 
never  took  place,  as  you.  already  know. 

ISText,  nearly  two  years  afterward,  she  had  packed  this 
very  bag  for  her  journey  to  meet  Alick  and  to  be  married  to 
him,  herself. 

And  now  she  was  packing  it  to  go  and  prevent  his  mar 
riage  with  his  cousin.  Truly,  the  little  bag  was  associated 
with  weddings  for  good  or  ill. 

While  Drusilla  wras  stowing  awTay  combs,  brushes,  soap, 
cologne,  napkins,  handkerchiefs,  chamber-slippers,  etc.,  into 
her  travelling-bag,  and  reflecting  on  all  its  happy  and  un 
happy  associations,  she  was  interrupted  by  the  hasty  en 
trance  of  Pina  and  Pina's  mammy,  both  with  their*  eyes 
wide  open  in  astonishment ;  for  Leo  had  startled  them  both 
with  the  announcement  that  his  mistress  had  ordered  the 
carriage  quite  suddenly  to  go  the  city. 

"  And  now,  ma'am,  what  is  all  this,  to  be  sure  ? " 
inquired  "mammy,"  with  the  authority,  not  to  say  the 
insolence,  belonging  even  to  the  best  of  her  sisterhood. 

"  What  is  what,  nurse  ?  "  questioned  Drusilla,  with  calm, 
dignity. 

"  That  boy — which  I  believe  he's  lying,  and  if  he  is  I 
will  chastise  him  well  for  it — says  how  you  has  ordered  the 
carriage  to  go  to  Washington  immediate  ;  which  I  know, 
ma'am,  you  would  never  think  of  doing  nothing  so  impru 
dent  ;  arid  I'll  give  it  to  Leo  well  for  scaring  of  me  with 
his  lies." 

"•  Leo  has  told  you  no  falsehood.  I  have  ordered  the 
carriage -to  take  me  to  the  city,"  said  Drusilla,  calmly. 

"  Well,  ma'am,  I  hope  you'll  follow  my  'vice  and  think 
better  of  it,  and  do  no  such  undiscreet  thing,"  said  mammy, 
grimly. 

"  I  have  no  choice,  nurse.  This  is  not  with  me  a  matter 
of  will,  but  of  necessity.  I  must  go  to  Washington  to  take 
the  night  coach  for  Western  Virginia." 


414  T  Ii  E      C  H  A  X  G  E  1)      BRIDES. 

At  this  announcement,  mammy  stared  for  a  moment  in 
speechless  consternation.  Then  lifting  both  her  hands;  she 
exclaimed : 

"  To  take  the  night  coach  for  Wes'  Wirginy  !  Well, 
Lord  !  And  is  you  crazy  ?  " 

"  No,  not  crazy  ;  though  I  know  how  strange  my  purpose 
must  seem  to  you,"  answered  Drusilla,  quietly,  as  she  folded 
some  white  linen  collars,  and  placed  them  in  her  bag. 
"  And  DOES  you  know  the  dangers  ?  " 

"  Of  the  road  ?  Well,  1  recollect  that  there  was  a  coach 
upset  on  the  Hogback  Mountain,  and  nine  passengers  killed 
or  wounded,  only  last  spring." 

"  I  don't  mean  the  road,  though  that's  as  bad  as  bad  can 
be,  to  my  sartain  knowledge,  which  has  travelled  of  it  once. 
I  mean  your  siteration,  there  !  do  you  know  the  dangers  of 
that,  a  bumping  and  a  thumping,  and  a  tumbling  and  a 
rumbling  over  them  rocky  roads  ?  I  say,  do  you  know  the 
dangers  of  that  ?  " 

"No,  I  don't,  nurse  ;  I  only  know  that  whatever  they  are, 
I  must  face  them,"  said  Drusilla,  so  calmly  and  so  firmly, 
that  the  old  woman  knew  at  once  that  it  would  be  utterly 
vain  to  try  to  turn  her  from  her  purpose. 

"  But,  for  goodness  sake,  why  must  you  go  ?  " 

"  From  imminent  necessity,  nurse,  that  I  can't  stop  now 
to  expl  lin.  I  wish  you  to  be  kind  enough  to  pack  up  under 
clothing  and  other  necessaries  enough  to  last  me  a  week. 
Pina,  empty  the  little  red  trunk  and  bring  it  here  to 
nurse." 

"  But,  for  patience's  sake,  whar  is  you  going,  child?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  see  my  husband." 

"  You  are  going  to  your  death  ! " 

"  Perhaps.  If  so,  I  shall  serve  him  just  as  well,"  mur 
mured  Drusilla,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  But,  child,  tell  me,  what's  the  great  'cessity  ?  What 
for  must  you  go  to  see  your  husband  sich  a  long  distance 


DRUSILLA'S    DESTINATION.          415 

over  sich  roads  in  your  siteration,  and  to  the   rist  of  your 
life?" 

"  He  is — in  imminent  danger,"  said  Drusilla,  evasively. 

"  Lor  !  and  that  was  the  bad  news  as  that  gentleman 
brought  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was." 

"  And  it  overcomed  you  so !  Well,  Lord  !  to  think  of 
the  tender  heart !  But  what  is  the  matter  of  him,  honey  ? 
— pleurisy,  I  shouldn't  wonder  !  That's  most  in  general 
what  ails  people  this  time  of  the  year.  Is  it  pleurisy, 
honey  ? " 

"  No,  not  that ;  but  do  not  stop  now  to  ask  questions-  I 
have  no  time  to  answer  them.  Here  is  Pina  with  the 
trunk.  And  here  are  my  keys.  Go  to  my  wardrobes  and 
bureaus,  and  select  what  is  needful  for  my  journey.  And 
pray  be  quick  about  it,  for  I  have  no  time  to  lose." 

"  Well,  but  honey,  hear  me  for  one  minute  first.  It  may 
be  that  he  is  very  ill,  but  he  may  get  over  it,  'out  your 
gwine  to  see  him.  Yes,  and  if  you  go,  he  may  get  well  and 
you  may  die.  And  anyway,  I  don't  see  the  use  of  two- lives 
and  maybe  three  lives  risted  instead  of  one.  Take  my  'vice, 
honey ^  and  stay  quietly  at  borne." 

"  Nurse,  listen.  I  should  suffer  a  thousand  times  more 
in  mind  to  stay  here,  than  I  possibly  could  to  go  the  journey 
that  I  have  fully  resolved  to  take,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  Well,  honey,  in  ekher  case  your  life  must  be  risted,  I 
suppose  ;  and  of  course  you  have  got  a  right  to  take  your 
choice  how  it  shall  be  risted.  So  now,  all  I  got  to  do  is  to 
make  your  journey  as  comfor  ble  as  I  can." 

"  Thank  you.  That  is  indeed  all  that  you  can  do."  said 
Drusilla. 

"But  mind,  honey,  I  gwine  long  with  you"  said  mammy, 
with  grim  resolution. 

"  You  ?  You  going,  nurse  ?  I  have  not  asked  you  I  " 
exclaimed  Drusilla,  in  astonishment. 


416  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"Xo,  honejT,  you  haven't  axed  me;  which  I  "believe  you 
never  even  thought  of  so  doing.  But  if  you  must  travel — 
by  night,  too — surely  you'd  never  think  of  travelling  alone 
in  your  state  of  health." 

"  That  is  true — I  never  thought  of  it." 

"  Which  it  seems  to  me  you  never  do  think  of  yourself, 
honey." 

'*  But  it  is  a  hard  journey  for  you  to  undertake.  Would 
not  Pina  do  as  well  to  go  with  me  ?  " 

"  Hi,  hone}',  what  good  Pina  going  to  be,  case  you  taken 
ill  on  the  road  ?  No,  child,  long  as  you  will  go,  you  must 
consent  to  take  the  ole  'oinan  along  to  look  after  you." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right ;  quite  right ;  and  I  thank  you 
very  much.  But  now  you  must  let  Pina  pack  that  little 
trunk  for  me,  while  you  go  and  get  ready  to  attend  me." 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  And  be  very  quick,  nurse.  See,  it  is  half-past  one.  It 
will  take  us  an  hour  to  ride  to  Washington,  and  I  wish  to 
be  there  by  three  o'clock,  so  as  to  make  sure  of  the  coach." 

"  All  right,  ma'am.     I  will  be  ready  in  half  an  hour." 

And  the  old  woman  hurried  away,  not  ill  pleased  to  vary 
the  monotony  of  her  life  at  Cedarwood  by  a  journey,  this 
fine  weather,  into  the  mountainous  regions  of  Virginia.  It 
is  true  that  this  was  a  measure  she  would  not  have  recom 
mended  to  her  patient ;  but,  since  that  lady  was  resolved 
upon  it,  "  mammy  "  made  the  best  of  it,  and  determined  to 
draw  what  good  she  might  out  of  the  change  of  scene  and 
circumstances. 

In  just  ten  minutes  mammy  returned  to  the  room,  dressed 
for  her  journey,  and  equipped  with  a  carpet  bag  that  con 
tained  all  her  travelling  belongings. 

"  You  have  been  very  quick,"  said  Drusilla,  approv 
ingly. 

':  Yes,  honey;  which  it  is  my  pride  and  ambition  always 
bo  to  be.  I  had  half  an  hour;  that's  thirty  minutes — three 


DRUSILLA'S    DESTINATION.          417 

times  ten.  The  first  ten  minutes  I  gives  to  getting  myself 
ready.  Now,  the  next  ten  minutes  I  gives  to  something 
else,"  said  mammy,  speaking  hastily,  and,  while  speaking, 
drawing  from  a  closet  a  small  red  morocco  trunk,  which  she 
proceeded  to  pack  with  a  full  supply  of  body  linen  and  till 
the  necessaries  of  a  baby's  first  toilet,  setting  the  baby's 
basket  in  the  tray  in  the  top  of  the  trunk. 

"  What  is  all  that  for  ?  "  inquired  Drusilla,  who  was 
busy  hooking  up  her  travelling  dress. 

"  Never  you  mind,  honey.  You  go  on  a  fixing  of  your 
self,  and  leave  me  alone.  And  there,  the  second  ten 
minutes  is  up  !  "  said  the  old  woman,  as  she  fastened  down 
and  locked  the  trunk. 

"  But  what  is  that  for  ?  "  persisted  Drusilla. 

"  Lor',  honey,  does  you  forget  ?  There's  three  of  us 
going  this  journey.  And  that  trunk  is  for  the  third  one. 
And  now  I  have  got  only  the  last  ten  minutes  left,  and  I 
must  give  that  to  something  else  still,"  said  mammy,  as  she 
flew  down  stairs. 

Meanwhile  Drusilla,  while  putting  on  her  cloak,  bonnet 
and  gloves,  gave  Pina  many  charges  about  the  care  of  the 
house,  the  birds,  the  dogs,  and  all  the  pets  of  the  establish 
ment,  which  would  be  in  her  charge  during  the  absence  of 
the  mistress. 

And  Pina  promised  the  utmost  fidelity  ;  but  begged  her 
lady  to  order  Leo  to  sleep  in  the  house,  because  she,  Pina, 
would  be  afraid  to  sleep  there  alone. 

Drusilla  had  but  just  promised  this,  when  "  mammy  "  re 
appeared  with  a  large  and  well-filled  luncheon  basket. 

"  How  thoughtful  you  are.  And  how  thankful  I  ought 
to  be  that  I  have  you  to  think  for  me  and  to  take  care  of 
me  at  this  crisis,"  said  Drusilla,  with  feeling. 

"Lor,  honey,  what's  the  use  of  my  having    lived  fifty 
year  in  this  world  if  I  aint  thoughtful  ?     And  what  call 
you  to  be  thankful  to  me,  for  doing  of  that  which  it  is  my 
26 


418  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

bounden  duty  to  do,  seeing  I'm  paid  for  it  ? "  replied 
niamrny,  laughing,  for  her  spirits  were  rising  with  the  ex 
citement  of  the  journey  before  her. 

"  Ah,  nurse,  there  are  some  services  that  cannot  be  pur 
chased  or  paid  for,  and  yours  are  of  that  sort.'7 

"  iNot  a  bit,  honey.  And  now  the  time  is  up  and  we's 
all  ready.  And  here's  everything  you  can  possibly  want. 
And  Leo,  he  told  me  to  tell  you  as  the  carriage  was  wait 
ing." 

"  Thank  you  ;  we  will  go  then." 

"  Yes,  honey. And,  now,  Pina,  you  be  good  gal  and 

take  care  of  the  house  while  your  missus  is  gone,"  said 
the  nurse,  turning  to  her  daughter. 

•'•'  Yes,  mammy.     When  will  missus  be  home  ?  " 

"  When  you  sees  her,  you  fool ;  and  not  a  minute  sooner. 
And  mind  you  have  everything  ready  for  her  when  she 
comes  ;  fire  made  in  her  room  and  all ;  mind  that,  or  it 
will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

"  Yes,  mammy." 

Drusilla  gave  a  last  glance  around  the  room,  so  full  of 
pleasing  and  painful  memories — the  room  which  she  felt  she 
might  never  see  again  ;  and  then,  silently  commending  her 
self  to  Providence,  she  left  it  and  led  the  way  down  stairs. 

The  carriage  stood  ready;  the  luggage  was  piled  on 
behind.  Leo  had  the  door  open  and  the  steps  down.  Dru 
silla  entered,  followed  by  her  nurse.  Both  took  a  kind  last 
leave  of  Pina,  who  thrust  her  head  and  hands  in  at  the 
window  for  the  purpose.  And  Leo  cracked  his  whip  and 
started  his  horses. 


THE     DREARY      NIGHT     RIDE.  419 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE    DREARY    NIGHT     RIDE. 

Her  brain  is  sick  with  thinking, 
Her  heart  is  almost  sinking, 
She  cannot  look  before  her, 

On  the  evil  haunted  way ; 
Uphold  her,  oh!  restore  her  I 

Thou  Lord  of  life  and  day. — MONCTOK  MILNES. 

A  FEW  minutes  after  three  o'clock,  the  carriage  contain 
ing  Drusilla  and  her  attendant  stopped  before  the  office  of 
the  Washington  and  Western  Virginia  line  of  stage 
coaches. 

In  great  anxiety,  Drusilla  drew  up  the  carriage  curtain 
and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

There  was  no  sign  of  a  coach  near  the  office. 

"  It  is  gone,  it  is  gone,"  she  cried,  clasping  her  hands  in 
despair.  "  It  is  gone  and  I  know  I  can  never  reach  the 
place  in  time  to  save  him  ! }J 

"  Now  don't  you  take  on  so,  ma'am,  that's  a  dear  child. 
The  coach  rnayn't  have  come  yet,  much  less  gone,"  said 
mammy,  soothingly. 

Meanwhile  the  porters  about  the  office  had  come  forward 
and  commenced  unstrapping  the  baggage  from  behind. 

Leo  jumped  off  his  seat  and  came  and  opened  the  car 
riage  door  and  let  down  the  steps. 

"  Is  it  any  use  to  alight,  Leo  ?  Is  not  the  coach  gone  ?  " 
sighed  the  lady. 

"  Lor',  no,  ma'am — it  haven't  gone  out  of  the  stajble  yet. 
We've  lots  of  time." 

"  Oh,  thank  heaven  ! "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  in  a  tone  of 
great  relief. 

Mammy  gathered  up  her  carpet  bag,  umbrella  and  big 
shawl — all  carried  for  her  mistress's  accommodation  and 
not  for  her  own — and  prepared  to  alight. 


420  THE      CHANGED      B  It  I  D  E  S  . 

"  Here,  boy,  you  let  me  get  out  first,  so  I  can  help  the 
madam,"  she  said,  handing  a  part  of  her  paraphernalia  to 
her  son,  and  then  clumsily  but  safely  tumbling  herself 
down  to  the  sidewalk. 

"  Take  care,  mammy/'  said  the  boy,  when  all  the  danger 
was  over. 

"  Now,  that  job's  done  !  I'm  allus  thankful  when  I  can 
get  out'n  ^  carriage  without  hurting  of  myself  or  breaking 
anything.  And  now,  honey,  let  me  help  you  out.  Be 
careful,  child,"  she  said,  holding  her  arms  forth  to  receive 
her  charge.  • 

"  Stand  aside,  please,"  smiled  Drusilla  ;  and  then,  rather 
than  avail  herself  of  mammy's  dangerous  assistance,  she 
alighted  without  aid,  and  immediately  entered  the  office? 
calling  Leo  to  attend  her. 

Seeing  a  lady's  waiting-room  back  of  the  office,  she  gave 
her  purse  to  Leo,  telling  him  to  go  to  the  clerk  and  secure 
their  seats;  but  then,  as  the  sudden  thought  that  they 
might  all  be  already  taken  flashed  into  her  mind,  she 
hurried  after  the  boy  up  to  the  clerk's  desk  and  eagerly 
inquired  : 

"  Have  you  any  seats  left  in  the  coach  now  about  to 
start  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  ;  lots.  We  have  nine  inside,  and  only  one 
taken." 

"  Then  I  will  take  two  at  once,"  said  Drusilla,  with 
another  sigh  of  relieved  anxiety. 

"  Four,  master,  if  you  please ;  we'll  take  four.  All  the 
back  seats  and  one  of  the  others,"  said  mammy. 

"  What  is  that  for  ?  "  hastily  whispered  Drusilla. 

"  'Cause,  child,  you  can't  sit  up  all  night.  You  must  lie 
down,  and  you  must  have  all  the  back  seats  to  lie  on  like  a 
sofy,  you  know,"  whispered  mammy,  in  reply. 

"  How  many  seats  will  you  take,  Miss  ?  "  inquired  the 
clerk,  who  had  looked  on,  pen  in  hand,  while  this  low-toned 
consultation  was  going  forward. 


THE     DREARY      NIGHT      RIDE.  421 

"  Four/'  answered  Drusilla.  "  And  my  servant  here  will 
settle  for  them.  Come,  nurse,  leave  Leo  to  finish  this 
business,  and  attend  me  to  the  ladies'  room." 

"  Yes,  honey,  in  one  minute.  I  just  want  to  stop  here 
and  see  the  lack  seats  secured  all  for  you,  all  together,  to 
lie  down  on.  'Twould  be  no  use  for  you  to  have  three 
seats  'stributed  all  about  the  coach,  for  how  could  you  'cline 
on  them  ?  Leave  me  to  'range  for  you,  ma'am." 

"  Very  well,  nurse,  do  as  you  think  best,"  said  Drusilla, 
passing  on  to  the  back  room. 

There  was  a  side  window,  opening  upon  an  alley  leading 
to  the  stables  where  the  coaches  were  kept. 

Drusilla  perceived  this,  and  seated  herself  by  the  window 
to  watch  for  the  coming  of  the  night  coach.  She  was  in 
such  a  state  of  feverish  anxiety,  that  she  could  not  rest. 
True,  two  great  causes  of  uneasiness  were  removed.  She 
was  in  time  for  the  coach,  and  she  could  get  seats  enough  ; 
but  still,  in  her  eager  impatience,  she  could  not  be  at  peace, 
and  she  longed  to  be  on  her  journey,  to  feel  herself  whirled 
swiftly  onward  towards  the  place  she  was  so  ardently  desir 
ous  to  reach. 

Presently  she  was  joined  by  mammy,  who  dropped  her 
fat  self  down  upon  a  chair,  making  it  creak  under  her 
weight,  and  said,  triumphantly  : 

"  Well,  honey,  it's  all  right,  and  you'll  travel  as  easy  as 
if  you  was  a  lying  on  your  own  sofy  !  I  left  that  boy  Leo 
to  watch  the  luggidge." 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you ;  but  at  the  same  time, 
if  the  coach  should  be  full,  and  any  one  should  want  twc 
of  my  places,  they  must  have  them,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  Must  they?  What's  the  use  o'  our  paying  for  them,  if 
it  wasn't  to  keep  out  all  'truders  that  did  come  ?  If  the 
coach  wasn't  going  to  be  full,  we  needn't  a  paid  for  no  extra 
seats,  seeing  as  we  might  a  had  '"em  for  nothing,  ma'am. 
And  don't  you  think  so  much  of  other  people.  Think  a 


422  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

little  more  of  }rourself,  ma'am.  Take  a  little  bit  of  pity  on 
yourself,  which  you  never  does,  though  the  Lord  knows  you 
needs  it." 

Mammy's  discourse  was  interrupted  by  music  as  delight 
ful  to  the  eager  ears  of  Drusilla  as  the  sublimest  strains  of 
Handel— the  rumbling  of  the  stage-coach  as  it  rolled  out  of 
the  stable  yard,  and  whirled  around  the  corner  and  drew  up 
before  the  office  door. 

Drusilla  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant. 

"]STow  don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,  ma'am.  You  be  quiet. 
Bless  you,  it  will  be  some  time  yet  before  it  starts. 
They've  got  all  the  luggidge  to  put  up  yet.  Leo,  he'll  call 
us  when  it's  time  to  get  in." 

With  a  sigh  Drusilla  dropped  into  her  seat.  Moments 
seemed  hours,  and  hours  mouths  to  her,  until  she  could 
reach  old  Lyon  Hall  and  prevent  the  consummation  of  her 
Alick's  meditated  crime. 

At  length  the  long  wished  for  signal  came.  Leo  looked 
into  the  room,  touched  his  hat,  and  said  : 

"Coach  ready,  ma'am." 

Drusilla  arose  in  haste  and  excitement. 

Leo  loaded  himself  with  the  light  luggage. 

Mammy  drew  her  big  blanket  shawl  about  her,  and  so 
they  went  out  of  the  office. 

"  Leo,  my  good  boy,  take  great  care  of  yourself  arid  your 
sister,  and  of  the  house  and  the  animals,  while  I  am  gone," 
said  the  lady. 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  you  may  trust  me  for  that,"  answered  the 
boy,  very  earnestly. 

"  And  Leo,  mind,  go  to  the  office  every  day  ;  and  if  you 
find  letters  for  me,  put  them  in  the  directed  and  stamped 
envelopes  I  gave  you,  and  post  them  with  your  -jwn  hand — 
do  you  hear  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am,  and  will  be  sure  to  remember  "  said  Leo, 
almost  weeping. 


THE      DREARY     NIGHT      RIDE.  423 

She  shook  hands  with  her  servant,  anl  sent  her  love  by 
him  to  Pina,  and  bade  him  good-bye. 

In  another  moment  Brasilia  and  her  attendant  were  in 
the  coach — the  only  passengers  there. 

Dmsilla  sat  reclining  in  the  corner  of  the  back  seat,  but 
mammy,  who  had  not  yet  seated  herself,  was  fussing  about, 
stowing  away  such  portable  luggage  as  they  had  brought 
in  their  hands. 

"  There,  honey  !"  she  said,  as  she  placed  a  carpet  bag  in 
the  other  corner  of  the  seat,  where  her  lady  sat,  and  spread 
a  soft  shawl  doubled  over  it,  "there,  that  will  be  a  tolera 
ble  pillow  for  you  when  you  want  to  lay  down.  And  here's 
another  shawl  that'll  do  to  spread  over  you.  And  I  reckon 
I  might's  well  take  the  lunching  basket  and  umberella  on  to 
the  seat  with  me.  And,  dear  knows,  it  looks  as  if  we  was 
agoing  to  have  all  the  coach  to  ourselves,  any  way ;  so  we 
had  no  call  to  pay  for  so  many  seats  we  might  a-had  for 
nothing." 

While  mammy  rambled  on  in  this  manner,  apparently 
for  no  other  purpose  than  the  pleasure  of  hearing  the  sound 
of  her  own  voice,  Drusilla  sat  gazing  out  of  the  window  at 
her  own  pretty  little  carriage,  with  her  faithful  boy  perched 
upon  the  coachman's  seat.  Poor  Leo  was  waiting  to  see 
his  beloved  uii-s-tress  off  before  leaving  the  spot. 

"  And  now  let  me  see — whar  shall  I  put  this  'ere  bundle 
so  I  won't  forget  it  ?  And  here,  nia'arn,  you  better  take 
this  purty  little  reticule  o'  yours  in  with  you,  'cause : 

"Nurse,"  said  Drusilla,  drawing  in  her  head,  "you  had 
better  sit  down  and  be  still.  The  coach  is  about  to  start." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  so  I  will,  soon's  ever  I  find  a  convenient 
place  for  these  gum  shoes  in  case  we  have  to  get  out  in  the 
wet,  'cause  you  see,  honey — " 

The  sudden  starting  of  the  coach  stopped  mammy's  ora 
tion  short  by  jerking  her  forward  upon  her  hands  and  knees. 

"  Lor'  a  massy  upon  me !     This  is   a  pretty  beginning, 


424  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

isn't  it  now  ?  if  it's  all  agoing  to  be  like  this  !  "  grunl>led 
mammy,  as  she  gathered  herself  up,  and  reeled  to  and  fro 
with  the  swinging  action  of  the  coach  before  she  could 
recover  her  equilibrium  and  take  her  seat. 

Drusilla,  who  was  looking  out  of  the  window,  and  waving 
her  hand  in  a  last  adieu  to  her  poor  devoted  servant,  did 
not  perceive  marnnry's  summersault  or  her  complaints. 

The  coach  swung  on  at  a  fearful  rate  until  it  reached 
Fourteenth  street,  where  it  stopped  at  the  great  hotel  there. 

"  I  s'pects  here's  where  they're  gwine  to  pick  up  the  other 
passenger,  which  sorry  enough  am  I  for  it  as  anybody  else 
should  be  intruding  upon  us,"  said  mammy,  folding  her 
arms  and  sitting  up  as  if  she  had  been  in  her  own  private 
equipage. 

But  Drusilla  lay  back  in  her  corner,  not  even  caring 
enough  about  her  unknown  fellow  passenger  to  turn  her 
eyes  towards  the  sidewalk. 

A  tall  young  man,  wrapped  in  a  dark  cloak,  with  its 
collar  turned  up  around  his  face,  and  wearing  a  cap  pulled 
low  over  his  brow,  came  out  of  the  hotel,  followed  by  a- 
porter  with  some  luggage. 

The  luggage  was  put  into  the  boot  behind.  The  young 
man  climbed  up  on  top. 

"  Oh,  a  outside  passenger,  after  all,  thank  goodness, " 
said  anammy,  reposing  herself  cautiously  back  upon  the 
cushions  to  avoid  another  jar  as  the  horses  started. 

The  coach  thundered  clown  Fourteenth  street  south,  and 
onward  until  it  reached  the  foot  of  the  Long  Bridge,  where 
it  slackened  speed,  as  "  the  law  directs." 

Ah,  Heaven  !  what  pleasing,  painful  memories  were 
awakened  in  the  poor  child's  mind  and  heart  by  the  sight 
of  this  old  bridge. 

Upon  just  such  a  day  and  hour  as  this  she  had  crossed  it 
for  the  first  time.  Then  as  now,  the  gorgeous  crimson  rays 
of  the  afternoon  sun  blazed  down  upon  the  river,  and  the 


THE     DREARY     NIGHT      RIDE.  425 

wintry  wooded  shores  were  reflected  in  deep  shadows  along 
the  reddened  waters.  Then  as  now,  the  scene  was  trans 
figured  by  the  hour  into  supernal  beauty  and  glory. 

But  then  she  was  a  newly  made  and  blessed  bride, 
seated  by  her  husband's  side  and  going  to  share  his  home 
and  bless  his  life. 

Scarcely  eleven  months  had  passed,  and  now,  now  she 
was  recrossing  the  same  river,  gazing  on  the  same  scene,  at 
the  same  hour, — a  deserted  wife  though  an  expectant 
mother — a  nearly  heart-broken  woman  because  an  accusing 
spirit,  going  to  confront  her  husband,  and  confound  his 
criminal  plans.  And  at  this  hour  on  the  morrow,  where 
should  she  be  ?  At  Old  Lyon  Hall,  bringing  exposure  and 
shame  upon  her  guilty  but  still  dear  Alick — bringing  mor 
tification  and  sorrow  to  his  expectant  young  bride — spread 
ing  consternation  and  gloom  among  the  gay  wedding 
guests.  Could  she  bear  to  do  this  ?  But  perhaps  at  this 
hour  to-morrow  she  might  be  dead  and  "  past  her  pain," 
for  who  could  say  whether  she  would  have  strength  to  live 
through  the  terrors  of  the  scene  she  was  so  resolved  to 
brave  ? 

Her  mournful  reverie  was  interrupted  by  mammy.  The 
slow  motion  of  the  coach  was  favorable  to  conversation,  and 
mammy  loved  to  let  her  tongue  run. 

"  You  see  that  sunset,  don't  you,  ma'am  ?  "  asked  the  old 
woman,  pointing  to  where  the  sun  was  slowly  sinking 
behind  some  long  black  clouds  that  lay  along  the  summits 
of  the  western  hills. 

"  Yes,  I  see  them." 

"  That  means  bad  weather,  ma'am.  All  the  good  Indy 
summer  goes  down  with  that  sun,  ma'am.  You  may  take 
my  'sperience  for  that.  We  gvvine  to  have  rain  and  wind, 
and  may  be  snow  and  sleet.  For  my  part  I  pray  to  the 
Lord  as  we  may  reach  our  journey's  end  before  it  comes  too 
severe.  When  does  you  expect  to  get  there,  ma'am  ?  " 


426  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Some  time  to-morrow  afternoon  or  evening ;  I  do  not 
exactly  know  the  hour." 

The  coach  reached  the  western  terminus  of  the  bridge, 
passed  quietly  through  it,  and  then  rapidly  increasing  its 
speed,  thundered  onward  over  the  rough  old  turnpike  road. 

Trees,  houses,  farms,  forests  flew  past  as  the  coach 
whirled  onward  up  hill  and  down  dale,  until  it  reached 
Alexandria. 

It  drew  up  in  the  midst  of  the  old  town,  "before  its  office, 
took  the  address  of  the  single  passenger  for  whom  it  was 
directed  to  call,  changed  horses  for  a  fresh  start,  and  swung 
around  into  Duke  street. 

What  was  it  here  that  suddenly  aroused  Drusilla  from 
her  painful  absorption  in  her  own  troubled  thoughts  ? 

The  coach  drew  up  'before  the  house  in  which  she  had 
been  married  ! 

She  let  down  her  veil,  and,  growing  rapidly  red  and  pale 
with  excitement,  looked  out. 

Soon  the  door  opened,  and  the  young  minister — the  very 
one  who  had  performed  her  marriage  ceremony — oarne  out, 
carpet-bag  in  hand,  and  shawl  ovetf  his  shoulders. 

"  You  see  I  am  quite  punctual,"  he  said,  speaking  to  the 
gentleman  passenger  on  top. 

The  other  did  not  reply,  but  probably  made  a  sign,  for 
the  minister  nodded  pleasantly,  saj-ing  : 

"Yes.  I  am  coming  up  there  to  sit  by  you.  Besides, 
the  night  is  so  fine  it  would  be  a  pity  to  box  one's  self  up 
inside." 

And  with  this  the  reverend  traveller  climbed  to  his 
place,  and  the  coach  started. 

Drusilla  sat  back  in  her  corner  and  drew  aside  her  veil. 
Then  she  saw  at  the  same  moment  mammy  draw  her  head 
in  from  the  other  window  and  raise  her  eyes  with  a  look  of 
astonishment. 

"  Well,  if  that  don't  beat  Injuns  !  " 


THE      DREARY     NIGHT      RIDE.  427 

"  What,  nurse  ?  "  inquired  Drusilla. 

"  Why,  hone}7,  that  gentleman  as  has  just  got  up  on  top, 
is  the  E-eberend  Mr.  Hopper." 

"  You  have  known  him,  then,3'  said  Brasilia,  with  awak 
ened  interest. 

"  Hi,  honey,  why  wouldn't  I  know  my  own  pastors  and 
masters  and  sponsors  in  baptism  ?  Sure  I  does  know  him, 
good  too.  Didn't  I  sit  underneaf  of  his  preaching  ebber 
since  here  he's  been  till  I  come  to  lib  long  o'  you  ?  What 
you  talking  'bout,  honey  ?  I  knows  him  good  as  I  do  my 
own  chillun." 

"  Is  he  an  Alexandria  man  ?  " 

"  Oh  lor,  no,  honey,  not  he  !  He  comes  from  the  northud 
and  hasn't  been  in  these  here  parts  moren'  a  year ;  no,  nor 
come  to  think  of  it,  that  long,  nyther ;  'cause  I  'members 
well,  he  come  the  first  of  last  Janivary  as  ebber  was." 

"  Then,"  thought  Drusilla  to  herself,  "  he  could  not  have 
been  but  a  few  days  in  the  State  before  he  married  Alick 
and  me."  And  speaking  aloud,  she  asked — "  What  did 
you  say  his  name  was,  nurse  ?  I  have  forgotten." 

"Hopper,  child!  Mr.  Hopper,  honey;  the  Reberent 
Mr.  Hopper  ;  which  whoever  heard  tell  of  a  reberent  gentle 
man  of  the  name  o'  Hopper,  which  to  my  thinking  is 
more  besuited  a  dancing-master,  or  a  skipping-jack  nor  a 
Methody  minis'er.  But  so  it  is,  honey;  and  I  'spose 
people  aint  to  be  blamed  for  their  misfortnit  names.  But 
what  /would  like  to  know  is,  what  he  gwine  prowlywowl- 
ing  'bout  the  country  for  ?  "  said  mammy. 

And  Drusilla  shared  her  curiosity,  though  she  did  not 
answer  it. 

"  What,  indeed,  could  be  taking  this  young  Methodist 
minister,  who  had  married  her  to  Alick,  and  who  could 
testify  to  the  validity  of  the  marriage  ?  What  could  be 
taking  him  on  the  same  day.  by  the  same  conveyance,  on 
the  same  journey  with  herself?  Could  his  errand  have  any 


428  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

connection  with  Alick's  approaching  iniq  dtous  marriage,  or 
with  his  prior  one  ?  Indeed  it  looked  so. 

"  But,  nonsense,  I  am  morbid  and  fanciful ;  the  minister 
who  married  us  happens  to  be  journeying  at  the  same  time 
and  in  the  same  coach  with  myself,  and  I  jump  to  the  con 
clusion  that  he  is  going  to  the  like  place  on  the  like  busi 
ness.  What  a  weak  fool  my  sorrows  have  made  me,  to  be 
sure,"  said  Drusilla  to  herself,  taking  her  imagination  to 
task  for  its  vagaries. 

But  she  could  not  quite  stop  its  wanderings. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  honey,  the  night  is  a  going  to  be  a 
bad  one.  Them  clouds  over  there  is  a  banking  up  like 
mountains  of  soot.  And  the  most  I  care  for  is  this  : — it 
will  drive  them  there  passengers  from  the  top  to  the  inside, 
to  moilest  us,"  said  mammy,  drawing  her  head  in  from  the 
window. 

"Well,  they  have  a  right  to  come,  nurse.  You  would 
not  keep  them  out  in  the  rain  all  night,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  that  I  would  ;  'cause  I  want  to  have  the  coach  all 
to  ourselves,"  said  mammy,  positively. 

It  was  quite  dark  and  very  cloudy  when  the  coach 
reached  the  little,  rural  town  of  Drainsville,  where  the 
horses  were  to  be  changed  and  the  passengers  were  to  take 
tea. 

"  Come,  honey ;  les  us  get  out,"  said  mammy,  hiding 
away  some  of  her  treasures,  while  she  loaded  herself  with 
others. 

"I  think  I  would  rather  stay  here,  nurse,"  said  Drusilla, 
languidly. 

"  No,  no,  no/'  objected  mammy,  authoritatively,  "  not  at 
all.  I  can't  allow  it.  The  coach  will  be  here  for  a  good 
half  an  hour.  You  get  out,  and  come  in  the  house,  and 
walk  about  a  little  to  stretch  your  limbs  ;  ar  d  take  off  your 
bonnet  to  ease  your  head,  and  have  your  tea  comforable. 
It  will  freshen  you  up  a  heap  for  the  rest  of  the  journey. 


THE      DREARY      NIGHT      RIDE.  429 

And  the  goodness  gracious  alive  knows  as  you  need  fresh 
ening  up,  and  you  won't  get  another  chance  till  the  stage 
stops  at  Frostville  to  breakfast.  And  that  will  be  a  good 
twelve  hour  long.  Think  of  that,  now,  and  do  as  I  'vises 
of  you." 

Before  mammy  was  half  through  her  exordium,  Drusilla, 
convinced  by  her  eloquence,  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  was 
drawing  her  cloak  around  her. 

She  saw  through  the  darkness  her  fellow-travellers  from 
the  top  get  off  and  go  into  the  bar-room  of  the  neat  and 
comfortable  inn.  And  she  gave  her  hand  to  the  guard, 
who  kindly  came  around  to  help  her  to  alight. 

"  There,  Miss,  there  is  the  private  door — a  nice  place, 
Miss,  with  a  nice  landlady  and  a  good  table  ;  shall  I  take 
you  in,  Miss  ?  "  he  inquired,  hoisting  a  large  umbrella,  for 
it  was  now  beginning  to  rain. 

"  Thanks,  yes,"  returned  Drusilla,  "  the  ground  seems 
slippery." 

"  This  way,  if  you  please,  Miss." 

"  Bad  manners  to  your  imperence,  this  lady  is  a  married 
lady,  and  not  a  young  Miss,"  said  mammy,  indignantly. 

"  Beg  pardon  ;  but  i  thought  the  madam  looked  young," 
said  the  guard,  laughing,  yet  not  disrespectfully. 

He  took  her  safely  across  the  slippery  way,  and  showed 
her  into  a  neat,  well  warmed  and  lighted  parlor,  where  the 
table  was  cleanly  set  for  tea. 

The  landlady,  a  cheerful,  hospitable  looking  person,  as  a 
landlady  should  be,  came  to  meet  her. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  to  a  bed-room,  ma'am  ?  "  inquired 
the  smiling  hostess,  who  was  led  into  no  mistake  by  tl.e 
child  face  of  her  guest,  because  her  quick  and  experienced 
eye  had  discovered  the  truth  at  a  glance. 

"  Yes,  please,"  answered  Drusilla. 

And  preceded  by  the  landlady  and  followed  oy  the  nurse, 
she  was  taken  up  stairs  to  a  large  bed  room,  whose  red 


430  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

carpet,  white  walls  and  draperies,  and  bright  fire,  gave  it  a 
very  pleasant  aspect. 

Drusilla  sauntered  about,  enjoying  the  privilege  of  loco 
motion. 

"  You'll  have  tea,  I  suppose,  ma'am  ? "  inquired  the 
hostess. 

"  Yes,  please  j  and  I  will  have  it  here,"  answered  Dru 
silla,  as  she  took  off  her  bonnet  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

The  landlady  left  the  room  to  issue  orders. 

While  waiting  for  her  tea,  Drusilla  washed  her  face  and 
took  down  her  hair  and  combed  it  out,  and  then  did  it  up 
loosely  in  a  net,  so  that  she  would  be  able  to  lie  down  and 
sleep  with  it  so.  Then  she  made  the  fastenings  of  her 
clothing  easy. 

And  by  the  time  she  had  finished  preparing  her  toilet  for 
the  night  journey,  a  maid  servant  appeared  with  a  table 
cloth  and  tea  tray. 

Drusilla  drank  two  cups  of  tea,  for  she  was  feverishly 
thirsty.  And  then,  being  scolded  into  the  measure  by 
mammy,  who  assured  her  that  two  lives  depended  on  her 
feeding,  she  ate  a  buttered  muffin,  and  the  breast  of  a 
boiled  chicken  with  creara  sauce. 

Drusilla,  in  the  childlike  simplicity  of  her  heart,  would 
have  made  her  nurse  sit  down  to  the  table  and  partake  her 
supper. 

But  mammy  asserted  that  she — Aunt  Hector — knew  her 
place.  And  so  she  filled  the  slop  bowl  brimming  full  of 
tea,  piled  up  a  plate  with  three  quarters  of  the  chicken  and 
half-a-dozen  muffins,  went  off  to  a  distant  corner  of  the 
room,  seated  herself  upon  an  old  chest,  ranged  her  supper 
around  her,  and,  with  a  promptness  and  dispatch  that  made 
her  mistress  stare,  she  dispatched  all  these  edibles,  and  an 
nounced  herself  in  condition  to  pursue  her  journey. 

"  And  now  if  the  coach  is  ready,  I  is." 

But  if  mammy  and  the  coach  were  both  ready,  the  pas- 


THE      DREARY      NIGHT     RIDE.  431 

sengers  at  the  tea-table  down  stairs  were  not ;  but  the 
coach  was  not  so  very  strictly  confined  to  time,  and  so  it 
was  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour  longer,  and  Drusilla  had 
ample  leisure  to  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  to  pay  her  bill, 
before  she  and  her  attendant  were  summoned  to  take  their 
places. 

The  guard  kindly  and  carefully  assisted  the  delicate 
young  matron  into  her  corner  of  the  back  seat,  saying  that 
he  would  warn  the  other  passengers  who  were  coming  in  for 
the  night  that  the  whole  of  it  belonged  to  her. 

She  thanked  him,  and  then  called  to  her  nurse  to  make 
haste  and  enter: 

"  Yes,  honey,  yes ;  Pm  coming  just  as  soon's  ever  I 
catch  my  eyes  on  them  two  little  red  morocky  trunks,  which 
I  haven't  seen  'em  since  we  left  Alexandry,"  said  mammy, 
who  was  behind  the  coach,  engaged  in  a  sharp  argument 
with  both  coachman  and  hostler. 

"  I  tell  you,  woman,"  said  the  former,  "  the  blamed  red 
trunks  is  all  right.  They  is  inside  of  the  boot,  kivered 
over  with  the  ile  skin  to  keep  out  the  wet.7' 

"  Yes,  so  you  say ;  but  I'd  a  heap  rather  see  'em  with  my 
own  two  looking  eyes.  And  believe  you  I  won't  till  I 
does,"  snapped  mammy. 

"  There  then,  blast  you,  look  for  yourself,"  said  the 
hostler,  pulling  apart  the  leathern  flaps  of  the  boot. 

Mammy  peeped  through  the  aperture,  and  seeing  the 
treasure  safe,  she  smiled  and  said  : 

"  Thank  ye,  sir.     Sorry  to  give  you  trouble  ;  but  seeing 

is  believing,  and  nothing  short  of  it  aint. Yes,  honey  ; 

yes,  honey,  I'm  coming  now ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  answer  to 
her  lady's  repeated  summonses. 

Mammy  tumbled  up  into  the  coach  with  even  more  than 
her  usual  blundering  awkwardness ;  for  it  was  as  dark  as 
Tophet,  and  the  guard  did  not  seem  to  consider  it  necessary 
to  hold  a  light  to  such  a  refractory  passenger.  And  so 


432  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

mammy,  after  fumbling  blindly  about  to  find  the  seat  she 
had  formerly  occupied,  turned  and  dropped  herself  heavily 
down  upon  a  gentleman's  lap.  A  simultaneous — 

"  Oh  ! " 

A  cry  of  pain  from  the  victim  and  of  surprise  from  the 
oppressor  arose. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  I'm  sure  ;  but  I'm  a  heavy  ole  'ornan, 
and  you  shouldn't  a  hit  up  agin  me." 

"  Hit  up  agin  3-011 !  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  the  injured  party, 
in  a  tragi-comic  groan. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  Brasilia  started  violently,  and 
lowered  her  veil  j  though  in  fact  it  was  too  dark  either  to 
see  or  to  be  seen  ;  for  oh  !  with  what  a  thrill  of  vague 
dread  she  recognized  Dick  Hammond's  tones,  although  she 
could  not  discern  his  face  ! 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  yowl  o'ut  in  that  onyearthly  way, 
sir ;  you'll  disturb  a  deliky  lady  I  has  in  my  charge/' 
expostulated  mammy. 

"  Oh,  I'll  roar  you  softly  an'  it  were  a  sucking  dove,  and 
bear  my  tortures  with  the  patience  of  a  slaughtered  lamb," 
laughed  Dick,  in  a  lachrymose  manner. 

"  I  hope  it  aint  as  bad  as  all  that,  sir.  Take  a  sup  o' 
brandy  out  of  my  bottle,"  said  mammy,  feeling  about  all 
the  vacant  seats  with  her  big  hands. 

At  this  instant  the  coach  started  so  suddenly  with  such  a 
violent  lurch,  that  mammy  was  jerked  back,  and  precipi 
tated  upon  the  knees  of  the  unlucky  Dick.  And  in 
scrambling  upon  her  feet  she  laid  hold  of  his  hair  to  help 
herself  up  by. 

"  Outch  ! "  screeched  the  victim.  "  She's  finished  me 
now.  She  has  scalped  me  and  broken  both  my  legs.  I 
know  they'll  have  to  be  amputated  ! " 

"  Very  sorry,  sir,  I'm  sure,"  said  mammy,  as  she  reeled 
about  with  the  swinging  of  the  coach,  and  finally  dropped 
into  a  vacant  seat.  "  Very  sorry,  but  you  will  keep  a  hit 
ting  up  agin  me.  I  hope  you  aint  hurt  much  ?  " 


THE     DREARY     NIGHT      RIDE.  433 

"  Hurt  much  ?  I  tell  you  you  have  crushed  both  my 
knees  to  a  pulp;  and  I  know  I  shall  have  to  get  them  taken 
off." 

"  Very  sorry,  sir !  but  I  can  recommend  you  to  a  doctor 
as  saws  legs  off  beautiful,  and  likewise  to  a  upholster  who 
sells  elegant  wooden  ones,"  said  mammy,  sympathetically. 

"  Many  thanks  !  But  how  about  my  head  ?  You  have 
pulled  two  great  handfuls  of  hair  out  by  the  roots,  and  I 
know  I  shall  have  to  get  the  rest  shaved ! "  laughed  and 
groaned  Dick. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  can  direct  you  to  a  gentleman  of  the  bar 
barous  line  of  business,  who  will  shave  your  head  as  clean 
as  a  peeled  potaty,  and  sell  you  a  lovely  false  wig." 

"  A  million  of  gratitudes  !  When  I  require  your  valua 
ble  guidance  I  will  seek  it.  But  for  the  present,  I  begin  to 
suspect  that  my  limbs  were  not  quite  crushed,  but  only  be 
numbed  ;  and  instead  of  being  scalped  outright  I  have  only 
lost  a  handful  of  hair,"  said  Dick,  as  he  settled  himself 
comfortably  in  his  seat,  and  subsided  into  silence. 

"How  does  you  feel  now,  honey?  Is  you  comformer- 
ble  ? "  inquired  mammy,  in  a  low  tone,  addressing  her 
charge. 

She  received  no  answer. 

"  I  do  b'lieve  how  she's  sleep.  How  is  you  getting  along, 
honey  ?  "  repeated  mammy.  But  with  no  better  success. 

"  I  do  'spose  she  is  'sleep !  But,  Lor',  I  daren't  go  nearer 
to  her  to  see  for  fear  I  should  fall  on  her,  and  mash  her, 
which  would  be  dreadful.  Tell  me  if  you  is  asleep,  honey  ; 
'cause  if  you  is  I  won't  wake  you  up,"  said  mammy,  raising 
her  voice,  and  listening  attentively. 

But  still  she  received  no  reply, 

"  Wonder  what's  the  matter  with  her  ?  "  muttered  mam- 
xny,  uneasily. 

"  She's  asleep,"  answered  Dick, 
27 


434  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Well,  if  she's  'sleep,  why  couldn't  she  tell  me  so  when 
I  axed  her  ?  " 

"  She  has  told  you  so,"  replied  Dick. 

"Lor' !  why  she  hasn't  said  a  single  word  ! " 

"  No  ;  but  she  has  told  you  so  in  the  only  way  a  sleeper 
could, — by  her  silence.  If  she  had  been  awake,  she  would 
have  spoken  ;  wouldn't  she  ?  " 

"  Sure  enough ;  I  never  thought  of  that  before.  See 
what  it  is  to  have  a  head-piece.  But  is  you  s0o:tam  sure 
stye  is  asleep  ?  " 

"  Certain  sure,"  answered  Dick,  bending  forward,  and 
listening  to  the  soft,  low,  regular  breathing  of  his  invisible 
fellow-passenger. 

"  Well,  thank  Goodness  for  that ! "  said  mammy,  as  she 
settled  herself  to  rest. 

The  stage-coach  had  been  thundering  on  its  way  at  a 
tremendous  rate  for  several  miles,  but  now  it  had  to  cross  a 
broad  but  shallow  stream  and  to  go  slowly. 

Suddenly,  Dick  yawned,  and  then,  addressing  his  fat 
neighbor,  inquired  : 

"  Does  your  ladyship  object  to  smoking  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  mammy,  sharply  ;  "  my  ladyship  do 
very  much  so,  indeed  ;  and  so  do  my  missus, — which,  sleep 
ing  or  'waking,  I  believe  it  would  make  her  sick." 

"  Oh,  your  missus  !  True  ?  Well,  let's  see  what  sort  of 
weather  it  is  outside — though,  in  point  of  fact,  I  had 
rather  bear  the  rain  than  forbear  my  cigar,"  said  Dick,  as 
he  opened  the  window  and  looked  forth  into  the  blackness 
of  the  night. 

The  rain  had  ceased  and  the  clouds  had  parted  as  with 
the  promise  of  clearing  off  entirely.  A  few  stars  were 
shining  out. 

"  Come  ;  not  so  bad  a  night  after  all.  I  have  been  out 
in  worse.  And  as  soon  as  we  get  upon  dry  land  again,  I 
think  I  will  climb  up  on  top  and  take  a  smoke.  Eh,  what 


THE     DREARY     NIGHT     RIDE.  435 

do  you  say,  Aunty  ?  Shall  I  help  you  up  also  ?  I  know 
you'd  like  your  pipe  !  "  said  Dick. 

"  I  scorn  your  insiniwatioris,  sir,  and  I  'vises  of  you,  if 
you  is  a-going  out  in  the  damp  night  air,  as  j^ou'd  better 
take  care  and  not  get  cold  in  your  '  raw  head  and  bloody 
bones,'  as  you  was  a-complaining  of." 

"  Thanks  for  your  caution,  Aunty.  I  shall  be  sure  to 
profit  by  it,"  laughed  Dick. 

And  then  as  the  coach  was  slowly  crawling  out  of  the 
mud  that  bordered  the  shallow  stream,  he  called  the  coach 
man  to  halt. 

u  I  wish  to  get  up  on  top,"  said  Dick. 

And  when  the  man  complied  with  his  wishes,  Dick  left 
his  seat  and  went  up. 

There  now  remained  two  other  passengers  besides  Dru- 
silla  and  her  attendant.  These  were  two  gentlemen  that 
occupied  the  corners  of  the  front  seat,  with  their  backs  to 
the  horses.  But  they  sat  so  quietly  that  but  for  their 
breathing  and  an  occasional  cough  or  'low-toned  word,  mam 
my  would  have  been  unconscious  of  their  presence. 

And  now  Drusilla  bent  forward  and  cautiously  touched 
the  nurse,  and  whispered  : 

"  Mammy,  come  and  sit  by  me.  I  have  something  to 
say  to  you.  Don't  answer  me  aloud,  but  do  as  I  tell  you." 

"  Lor,  honey,  is  you  waked  up  ?  It  was  that  there  man 
a-making  of  his  noise,  getting  outn't  his  seat.  Some  peo 
ple  can't  never  keep  quiet.  But,  honey,  I'm  afraid  if  I 
moves  I  might  fall  on  you,"  said  mammy. 

"  No,  you  won't ;  we  have  no  jolts  here.  Guide  yourself 
by  the  left  side  of  the  seat,  and  I  will  give  you  my  hand." 

"  Yes,  honey,"  said  the  old  woman,  and  slowly  and  care 
fully  she  changed  her  "  base,"  and  safely  reached  the  haven 
beside  her  mistress.  • 

"  Nurse,"  whispered  Drusilla,  "  I  have  not  been  asleep." 

"  My  !  haven't  you,  honey  ?  Why  didn't  you  answer 
me.  then  ?  " 


436  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Because  I  did  not  wish  to  talk.  That  gentleman  who 
got  in  just  the  moment  before  you,  is  a  passenger  that  was 
picked  up  at  Drainsville,  he  is  the  same  person  who  brought 
me  the  bad  news  yesterday." 

«  Don't  say  !  " 

"  Hush  !  speak  very  low  ;  we  are  not  alone,  you  know." 

"  And  to  think  I  never  knowed  him  agin." 

"  That  is  not  strange.  It  is  quite  too  dark  for  you  to 
have  seen  his  face.  I  only  knew  him  by  his  voice." 

"  Well,  I  heard  his  woice  too ;  but  I  didn't  know  it 
agin." 

"  You  heard  it  only  in  a  moment  of  terror,  and  when  its 
very  sound  was  unnatural.  It  is  not  strange  that  you 
should  not  have  recognized  it  again." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  !     Where's  he  going  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  nurse.  Probably  where  we  are  going. 
But  I  do  not  wish  him  to  recognize  me,  lest  he  should  like 
me  to  talk  ;  and  I  cannot  talk  of  my  affairs.  I  say  this  to 
caution  you.  Be  on  you  guard." 

"  Yes,  honey,  I'll  be  on  my  guard.  And  you  may  keep 
yourself  dark  during  the  night;  but  I  don't  see  how  you 
gwine  to  manage  when  it  is  daylight." 

"  I  must  keep  my  veil  down,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  Well,  honey,  I  hope  you  will  succeed." 


HOW      SHE     SPED.  437 


CHAPTER  XLIY. 

HOW    SHE    SPED. 

The  night  drave  on    o    o    o 

The  wind  blew  as  'twad  blaun  its  last, 

The  rattling  showers  rushed  on  the  blast, 

The  speedy  gleams  the  darkness  swallowed. 

Deep,  lang  and  loud  the  tempest  bellowed, 

From  heav'n  the  clouds- pour  all  their  floods, 

The  doubling  storm  roars  through  the  woods. — BURNS. 

LIGHT  here  and  there,  like  sparks  of  Hre  in  seas  of  dark 
ness.  Darkness  within  and  without.  The  two  red  lamps 
that  flanked  the  coachman's  seat,  the  single  lantern  carried 
by  the  guard,  and  the  bright  point  of  Dick's  cigar  as  he  sat 
smoking  on  the  top  of  the  coach,  only  seemed  by  contrast 
to  make  that  darkness  deeper. 

The  coach  slowly  clawed  up  a  long  hill  at  the  summit  of 
which  was  a  country  inn,  with  its  usual  accessories  of 
grocery-store,  blacksmith's  shop  and  post-office. 

Here  all  was  cheerful  bustle,  with  the  glancing  lights, 
the  voices  of  men,  the  tramp  of  steeds,  and  all  the  merry 
movement  of  a  way  station. 

And  here  the  coach  stopped  to  change  horses. 

The  outside  passenger  jumped  down  and  went  into  the 
little  bar-room  of  the  inn,  which  Drusilla  could  see  from  her 
window  was  half-filled  with  country  loafers  and  village  poli- 
ticions,  drinking,  smoking,  discussing  the  news,  and  settling 
the  elections.  In  two  minutes  the  outside  passenger  was 
"  hail  fellow,  weil  met,"  with  every  one  of  them,  and  gen 
erously  treating  the  whole  company  with  the  best  in  the 
bar.  Ah,  poor  Dick  ! 

Meanwhile  the  guard  came  to  the  cq.ach  door  with  his 
lantern,  and  inquired  if  any  of  the  ladies  or  gentlemen 
desired  to  get  out  for  refreshments,  as  they  should  stop 
there  fifteen  minutes. 

The  two  gentlemen  on  the  front  seat  at  once  left  the 


438  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

coach.  As  they  got  out,  Drusilla  saw  that  one  was  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Hopper.  The  other  was  the  stranger  they 
had  taken  up  first  in  Washington. 

When  they  had  disappeared,  the  guard  turned  to  Dru 
silla  and  repeated  his  question,  whether  she  or  her  atten 
dant  would  like  to  leave  the  coach. 

Drusilla  politely  declined  to  do  so.  But  marnmy  got  up 
and  tumbled  out  of  the  coach,  and  called  to  one  of  the  host 
lers  ; 

"  Hey  !  I  say  !  Coine  here,  you  sir,  and  fetch  a  light 
this  way." 

The  man  who  was  thus  summoned,  thinking  that  some 
accident  had  happened,  ran  to  the  spot,  demanding : 

"  What  is  it  ?  » 

"  I  want  you  just  to  look  in  that  there  leather  place 
behind,  and  see  if  them  there  little  red  niorocky  trunks  is  all 
right." 

"  Blast  you  and  your  trunks  too  !  Who  do  you  think  is 
going  to  be  bothered  with  them  ?  "  angrily  retorted  the 
man  as  he  left  her. 

"  Come  in,  nurse.  Oh,  do  come  in,"  pleaded  Drusilla, 
from  the  window.  "  I  am  sure  the  trunks  are  all  safe." 

But  mammy  was  not  in  a  very  compliant  humor.  She 
ran  splashing  through  slop  and  mire,  and  burst  into  the  bar 
room,  exclaiming: 

"  Oh,  do,  kind  gentlemen,  some  of  you  come  out  and  see 
if  them  there  two  little  red  niorocky  trunks  of  the  madam's 
is  all  right." 

The  company  around  the  fire  stared  at  her  in  astonish 
ment  and  ridicule. 

But  Dick,  the  most  good-natured  of  all  creatures,  took  up 
a  light  and  followed  her. 

"Here,  sir,"  she  said,  leading  the  way  to  the  boot,  "just 
you  pull  apart  these  here  flaps  and  hold  the  light  so  I  can 
peep  in  and  see." 


HOW      SHE.    SPED.  439 

Dick  laughingly  complied  with  her  request. 

"  Yes,  there  they  is,  thank  goodness,  safe  as  yet.  Thanky' 
sir.  Now  I'll  get  in  the  coach,  please,"  she  said,  with  a 
courtesy  as  she  returned  to  the  side  of  her  charge. 

11  Is  it  raining  ?  "  inquired  Drusilla. 

"  No,  honey,  but  black  as  Beelzebub ;  so  it  must  come 
down  heavy  enough  afore  long.  And  now,  honey,  while 
them  there  men  is  all  out'n  the  way  let  me  make  you  com 
fortable  for  the  night.  You  come  over  on  this  middle  seat 
while  I  make  you  a  bed  on  the  back  one." 

Drusilla  complied,  for  she  was  very,  very  weary  with  sit 
ting  up  so  long. 

Mammy,  with  the  help  o£  a  softly-packed  carpet-bag, 
that  served  for  a  pillow,  with  a  clean  pocket  handkerchief 
spread  over  it  for  a  case,  and  two  large  shawls  for  coverings, 
made  a  very  comfortable  couch. 

Drusilla  took  off  her  bonnet  and  hung  it  up,  and  loosened 
her  hair  and  her  clothes,  and  lay  down.  And  mammy  tucked 
her  up. 

Just  at  this  moment  came  the- guard  with  a  tray  and  a 
tumbler. 

"  One  of  the  gentlemen  from  the  inn  has  sent  this  to  the 
lady  with  his  respectful  compliments,  and  begs  she  will  take 
it,"  he  said,  as  he  handed  the  offer  in  at  the  window. 

"  Yes,  honey,  you  take  it,  and  drink  it,  too.  It's  a  hot 
mulled  port  wine  negus,  spiced ;  and  it  will  warm  you  and 
put  you  to  sleep,"  said  mammy,  as  she  took  the  glass  from 
the  messenger  and  passed  it  to  the  mistress. 

The  poor,  chilled,  tired  and  nervous  creature  really  needed 
and  felt  that  she  needed  just  such  a  cordial  at  just  that 
hour.  She  inhaled  its  steamy,  spicy  fragrance  with  satis 
faction  and  desire,  yet  she  hesitated  to  take  it. 

"  I  don't  know  who  sent  it,  nurse,"  she  said. 

"  Now  what  the  mischief  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?  Do 
that  make  it  butter  or  worse  ?  1  s'ptv.t  thy  good-natured 


440  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

young  man  who  'cused  me  o'  scalping  him  and  breaking  of 
his  legs  sent  it.  But  that's  nyther  here  nor  there.  Who 
ever  sent  it,  sent  it  in  kindness  j  and  don't  you  ever  'fuse 
human  kindness  when  you  needs  it,  come  from  where  it  will, 
'cause  it  hurts  the  feelings  in  the  saftest  place.  Here, 
honey,  drink  it  while  it's  steaming  hot — hot  as  love." 

"  Well,"  said  Drusilla,  taking  the  glass  and  sipping  the 
cordial,  "when  you  return  the  glass,  send  word  to  the 
gentleman  that  I  thank  him  very  much  for  his  thoughtful- 
ness  in  sending  me  this  restorative,  and  that  I  know  it  will 
do  me  good." 

Five  minutes  after,  when  Drusilla,  having  finished  her 
cordial,  was  comfortably  reposing  on  her  couch,  and  the 
guard  came  for  the  glass,  mammy  delivered  her  message 
thus : 

"  Tell  the  young  man  as  sent  this  that  the  madam  says 
how  she's  very  much  obleeged  to  him  for  the  hot  stuff, 
which  it  has  gone  right  to  the  right  place,  and  done  her 
good  and  no  mistake." 

The  next  moment  the  three  gentlemen  passengers  took 
their  places  inside  the  coach,  two  of  them  sitting  on  the 
front  seat  in  opposite  corners,  and  one  of  them,  Dick, 
sitting  on  the  middle  seat  beside  mammy. 

The  coach  started  again.  The  night  was  so  dark,  and 
the  down-hill  road  so  steep,  that  it's  progress  was  cautiously 
slow. 

The  male  passengers  wrapped  themselves  closely  in  their 
t(  mauds,"  pulled  their  caps  down  over  their  eyes,  and  com 
posed  themselves  to  sleep. 

Mammy  opened  her  luncheon  basket,  and,  having  first 
hospitably  offered  to  share  its  contents  with  each  and  all  of 
her  fellow-passengers  and  been  politely  refused,  set  to  work 
and  ate  a  very  hearty  supplementary  supper  off  the  best  it 
contained  of  food  and  drink,  and  then  gathered  up  the 
fragments  and  put  them  away. 


HOW     SHE     SPED.  441 

Finally,  she  took  off  her  best  bonnet — of  the  Quaker  or 
Methodist  pattern, — hung  it  up  beside  her  mistress's,  tied  a 
little  woollen  shawl  over  her  head,  wrapped  a  big  one 
around  her  shoulders,  and  resigned  herself  to  rest. 

Soon  all  were  sleeping  except  Drusilla,  who,  physically 
speaking,  was  more  favorably  placed  for  sleep  than  any  of 
the  others.  She  lay  very  comfortably,  really  rocked,  not 
racked,  by  the  swinging  motion  of  the  coach  as  it  rolled 
down  hill.  She  was  very  tired,  and  so,  in  a  bodily  sense, 
she  almost  enjoyed  this  soft  reposing  and  easy  rocking  ;  but 
she  was  not  sleepy,  for  her  mind  was  too  active  with  the 
thoughts  of  what  lay  around  and  before  her. 

Where  was  Dick  Hammond  and  Mr.  Hopper  going? 
Who  was  the  tall,  dark  gentleman  they  had  taken  up  at 
Washington,  and  who  certainly  seemed  to  be  of  the  same 
party,  since  she  had  seen  him  signalling  to  Mr.  Hopper  ? 
Was  their  errand  in  the  country  connected  with  the  same 
sad  business  that  was  taking  herself  thither? 

Dick  might  be  only  going  down  in  answer  to  his  uncle's 
invitation  to  the  wedding,  she  reflected.  "  But,  no,  not 
so ! "  she  thought,  instantly  repudiating  the  idea  that 
Eichard  Hammond,  after  all  that  he  had  said  in  reproba 
tion  of  the  iniquitous  marriage,  could  possibly  sanction  it 
by  his  presence. 

But  what  then  was  he  going  for  ?  and  why  was  he  tak 
ing  Mr.  Hopper  and  that  other  gentleman — who  looked  as 
if  he  were  in  some  way  connected  with  the  law,  along  with 
him  ? 

Was  he  going  to  denounce  Alick  to  his  uncle  and  cousin  ? 
Was  he  taking  Mr.  Hopper  down  as  a  witness  to  Alick's 
former  marriage  ?  And  the  mysterious  legal-looking  gen 
tleman  as  a  prosecutor? 

As  these  thoughts  chased  themselves  through  her  mind, 
she  clasped  her  hands  and  moaned. 

Oh,  were  they  all  three  combining  to  go  and  overwhelm 


442  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

her  Alick,  and  cover  him  with  humiliation  and  confusion  ? 
she  asked  herself;  and  for  the  moment  her  Alick  appeared 
to  her,  not  as  a  criminal  pursued  by  the  just  avengers,  but 
as  a  victim  hunted  down  by  relentless  persecutors,  of  whom 
she  saw  herself  the  chief. 

"  Oh,  why — oh,  why  couldn't  I  have  kept  still  and  let 
him  marry  his  cousin  and  be  happy  with  her?  Oh,  Alick  ! 
oh,  poor  Alick  !  But  that  would  have  been  a  crime.  Ah, 
Heaven,  how  hard  is  my  lot  to  have  to  choose  between 
making  him  wretched  or  leaving  him  criminal ! "  she 
moaned,  twisting  her  fingers  and  weeping. 

She  dreaded  the  coming  of  the  morning.  She  feared  the 
daylight  that  might  discover  her  face  to  these  men,  who 
she  thought  were  confederated  to  ruin  her  husband.  She 
dreaded  their  recognizing  and  speaking  to  her.  But  she 
was  determined  to  have  nothing  to  say  to  them,  or  to  do 
with  them  ;  for,  Under  present  circumstances  she  felt  that 
any  intercourse  between  her  and  them  would  look  too  much 
like  entering  into  their  conspiracy.  Arid  now  her  whole 
gentle  soul  revolted  in  horror  from  those  three  harmless 
and  unconscious  gentlemen,  who  were  reclining  on  the  seats 
before  her,  and  "  sleeping  the  sleep  of  innocence." 

Yes  ;  all  in  the  coach  were  at  rest  except  herself.  Nor 
could  she,  with  all  her  mental  distress,  very  long  resist  the 
influences  that  were  wooing  her  to  repose.  Her  excessive 
bodily  fatigue,  combined  with  the  sporofic  qualities  of  the 
spiced  cordial  she  had  taken,  the  swinging  motion  of  the 
coach  and  the  lulling  sound  of  the  falling  rain,  soon  over 
came  her  consciousness,  and  she  too  slumbered  in  forgetful- 
ness  of  all  her  sorrows. 

She  slept  on  for  several  hours,  until  she  was  awakened  by 
the  flashing  of  lights,  the  hallooing  of  men  and  the  tram 
pling  of  beast^,  as  the  coach  stopped  to  change  horses  at 
one  of  the  noisest  post-houses  on  the  road. 

The  other  passengers  were  aroused  at  the  same  time. 


HOW      SHE      SPED.  443 

Mammy  awoke  from  some  dream  of  her  professional 
duties,  yawned,  stretching  her  jaws  almost  to  dislocation, 
and  thereby  discovering  a  most  fearful  abyss,  and  still 
dreaming,  exclaiming : 

"  Yaw-aw !  Yes,  honey  !  Tell  the  madam  I'll  be  up 
and  dressed  in  one  minute.  And  tell  that  boy  to  run  for 
the  doctor.  Ow  !  Yaw-aw  !  " 

But  at  this  noisy  station  the  people  were  very  active. 
And  before  the  good  woman  could  collect  her  faculties  the 
coach  started,  and  she  herself  was  again  precipitated  down 
into  the  laud  of  "  Nod." 

Drusilla  could  not  sleep  again,  so  to  ease  her  position  she 
sat  up  and  reclined  back  in  the  corner  of  her  seat,  and  in  a 
dreamy,  half-conscious  condition  she  gazed  through  the 
opposite  window. 

At  first  it  seemed  but  a  solid  wall  of  darkness  past  which 
the  coach  was  so  swiftly  whirling ;  but  gradual!}-,  as  her 
eyes  accustomed  themselves  to  the  circumstances,  this  dark 
ness  grew  less  opaque,  this  obscurity  less  impenetrable, 
until  at  length  she  could  dimly  discern  the  boundaries  of 
mountains,  valleys,  forests,  and  the  outlines  of  rocks,  trees 
and  buildings. 

At  long  intervals  she  could  perceive  the  form  of  some 
solitary  farm-house,  with  its  barn,  shed,  cattle-pen,  field, 
orchard  and  garden.  Half  waking,  she  would  wonder  who 
lived  and  worked  there  ;  and  half  sleeping,  she  would  peo 
ple  the  place  with  the  beings  of  her  dream. 

Sometimes  she  saw  a  lonely  woodcutter's  cottage  on  the 
edge  of  a  forest,  and  vaguely  conjectured  what  sort  of  life 
its  denizens  led.  Once  in  such  a  place  she  saw  a  single 
light  burning  in  the  tiny  window  of  a  little  upper  chamber, 
in  the  interior  of  which  the  shadow  of  a  woman  was  bend 
ing  over  the  shadow  of  a  sick-bed.  She  had  but  a  glimpse 
of  all  this,  as  the  coach  rolled  past,  yet  her  ready  sympa 
thies  went  forth  to  the  poor  watcher  and  the  suffering  in 
valid. 


444  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Once  she  was  treated  to  a  brilliant  picture  in  the  dark 
ness — an  oasis  in  the  desert.  It  was  a  bran  new,  commodi 
ous  country  house,  well  seated  on  a  hill ;  lights  were  glanc 
ing  from  every  window ;  music  was  borne  forth  upon  the 
wind;  even  in  that  inclement  weather,  somebody  seemed  to 
be  giving  a  great  party  and  to  be  keeping  it  up  all  night. 
But  before  she  could  observe  more  the  coach  had  rushed  by 
and  left  the  festive  scene  far  behind. 

Once  she  noticed  a  little  road-side  hut,  and  in  its  door 
way,  a  poor,  old  woman,  thinly  clad,  holding  a  lantern  in 
her  hand  and  bending  outward  in  an  attitude  of  intense 
anxiety,  as  if  looking  for  some  one.  "  In  her  poor  way,  she 
is  watching  and  waiting,  as  I  used  to  do.  Has  she  a  bus- 
band,  or  perhaps  a  son,  who  is  breaking  her  heart  ?  "  mused 
Drusilla,  as  the  coach  swung  onward  and  left  this  sad  pic 
ture  also  in  its  rear. 

Such  signs  of  life,  however,  were  very  rare,  on  that  lonely 
road,  at  that  late  hour.  The  few  hamlets,  farms  and  huts 
they  passed  were  for  the  most  part  shut  up,  dark  and  silent 
as  graves. 

But  they  were  now  penetrating  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  mountain  fastnesses  ;  and  farm-houses  and  villages  were 
fewer  and  farther  between.  For  miles  and  miles  nothing 
but  the  most  savage  solitudes  loomed  in  the  blackness  of 
darkness  through  which  they  passed.  And  Drusilla,  reclin 
ing  back  in  her  corner,  dreamily  gazing  forth  through  the 
rain-dimmed  window  upon  this  obscure  scene,  vaguely  won 
dered  when  these  solitudes  would  be  peopled,  when  this 
wilderness  would  "  bloom  and  blossom  as  the  rose.7' 

And  so,  while  all  her  fellow-passengers  were  deeply 
buried  in  unconsciousness,  she  dreamed  on  her  waking 
dream.  But  often  in  the  midst  of  these  reveries  the  sudden 
sharp  recollection  of  her  own  trouble  pierced  her  heart  like 
a  sword  and  drew  from  her  lips  a  bitter  groan.  Then  again 
the  influence  of  the  scene  and  hour,  the  obscurity,  the  pic- 


DRUSILLA'S    ARRIVAL.  445 

turesqueness,  the  rocking  motion  of  the  coach,  the  soothing 
sound  of  the  falling  rain  without,  the  silence  and  stillness 
of  all  within,  lulled  her  senses  to  repose  if  not  to  sleep. 

Thus,  slumbering,  dreaming,  starting,  waking,  she 
passed  this  weird  night,  that  ever  in  her  after  life  seemed 
to  her  less  like  the  reality  than  like  the  phantasmagoria  of 
a  hasheesh-conjured  vision. 

Towards  morning,  being  very  much  wearied  with  sitting 
up,  she  lay  down  again,  and,  as  is  usual  with  uneasy  sleep 
ers,  just  at  daylight  she  fell  into  a  deep  and  dreamless 
sleep. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


"What  shall  she  be  ere  night  ?— BTEOW. 

SHE  slept  profoundly  and  until  she  was  rudely  awakened 
by  a  shock  of  noise  and  action. 

It  was  now  broad  day,  and  it  was  raining  hard.  The 
coach  was  drawn  up  before  the  door  of  the  large,  low  build 
ing,  the  one  hotel  in  the  mountain  hamlet.  Hostlers  and 
porters  were  crowding  around  it. 

Drusilla  lay  quietly  in  her  shadowy  recess,  resolved  not 
to  move  until  the  male  passengers  had  left  the  stage,  which 
she  saw  they  were  preparing  to  do. 

First,  Dick  Hammond  climbed  over  mammy,  who  was 
still  fast  asleep,  and  got  out.  Then  the  minister  and  the 
lawyer,  one  after  the  other,  surmounted  the  same  obstruc 
tion  and  passed  on  the  same  way.  And  these  three  gentle 
men  went  into  the  bar-room. 

But  mammy  slept  on. 


446  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Drusilla  sat  up  and  quickly  tightened  her  own  dress  and 
put  on  her  bonnet.  And  then  she  tried  to  wake  her  atten 
dant^  but  without  success ;  for  mammy  did  nothing  but 
yawn  and  talk  in  her  sleep  and  settle  herself  to  rest  again  ; 
until  the  guard  came,  and,  shaking  her  roughly,  shouted  in 
her  ears  : 

"  Come,  come,  old  woman  !  wake  up  and  get  out  !  the 
coach  stops  here  to  breakfast." 

"  Yaw  !  yaw  !  I  just  said  how  it  would  be  !  I  know'd 
it  would  happen  before  morning  !  "  said  mammy,  yawning 
fearfully  and  then  opening  her  eyes  and  exclaiming  : 

"  Oh,  dear  !  why,  what's  this  ?  Where  is  we,  to  be  sure  ? 
Oh,  I  members  !  This  must  be  Frostville.  And  now  I 
wonder  if  them  there  little  red  morocky  trunks  is  safe  ?  " 

(l  Yes,  yes,  nurse,  of  course  they  are  safe.  And  now 
come  and  do  let  us  get  into  the  hotel  as  quickly  as  possi 
ble,"  said  Drusilla,  impatiently,  for  she  saw  that  the  people 
in  charge  of  the  stage  were  vexed  at  the  delay. 

"Why,  Lor',  honey,  is  you  awake  at  last?  Well,  I 
declare  !  How  sound  you  did  sleep  all  night,  to  be  sure ! 
and  a  blessed  thing  for  you,  too  ;  but  as  for  me,  I  couldn't 
close  my  eyes  all  the  whole  night,  for  watching  of  you,  and 
thinking  of  them  there  two  little  red  morocky  trunks.  I 
wonder  if  they  is  safe,"  said  mammy,  uneasily. 

Yes,  yes,  blame  you  !  Come,  get  out !  I  can't  stop  here 
waiting  on  you  all  day/'  said  the  guard,  half  angrily.  And 
with  very  little  ceremony  he  bundled  the  old  woman  out  of 
the  coach. 

And  then  he  hoisted  an  umbrella,  and  held  it  over  the 
delicate  young  invalid  as  he  helped  her  to  alight,  and  led 
her  across  to  the  private  door  of  the  hotel. 

Mammy  followed,  dragging  all  her  belongings,  and 
grumbling  : 

"  I  haven't  seen  them  there  little  red  morocky  trunks 
yet,  which  it  is  my  private  belief  that  the  guards  is  in 


DRUSILLA'S    ARRIVAL.  447 

league  with  the  highway  robbers,  same  as  they  say  the 
p'lice  is  with  the  burglarians  in  the  towns ;  and  they 
'\vides  spiles,  share  and  share  alike,  that  I  do.  Goodness 
knows,  one  needs  to  have  one's  eyes  all  around  one's  head, 
and  all  of  'em  wide  open  all  the  time,  to  watch  these 
fellers." 

"  Nurse,  be  quiet.  The  trunks  are  safe  ;  or,  if  they  are 
not,  the  loss  is  mine,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  The  loss  may  be  yours,  but  the  illconweniency  is  mine, 
ma'am.  How  in  the  world  am  I  to  do  my  perfessional 
dooty  without  my  proper  conveniences  ?  "  inquired  mammy. 

But  before  her  question  could  be  answered,  the  guard 
had  "conducted  her  mistress  into  the  best  parlor  of  the 
humble  hotel. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  place  to  come  into  out  of  the  rain ; 
a  spacious  room  with  a  low  ceiling,  and  an  ample  fire-place 
witli  a  huge  fire  of  pine  and  oak  wood  roaring  and  blazing 
up  the  chimney  ;  on  the  floor  a  home  made  carpet ;  at  the 
windows,  home  made  blue  paper  blinds ;  along  the  walls, 
country  manufactured  chip-bottomed  chairs  and  chintz- 
covered  sofas  ;  over  the  wooden  mantel-piece,  the  oldest 
fashioned  looking  glass,  ornamented  with  peacock's 
feathers  ; — altogether  it  was  a  room  breathing  of  real  rustic 
life,  and  very  refreshing  after  velvet  carpets,  satin  dam-ask 
draperies,  gilded  chairs,  and  cheval  mirrors, 

Many  doors  opened  from  this  large,  low  parlor  into  many 
other  rooms,  for  in  this  mountain  region  the  houses  were  all 
built  on  one  floor  and  of  one  story,  to  protect  them  from 
injury  by  the  high  winds  of  that  locality. 

Drusilla  stood  for  a  little  while  before  this  beautiful  fire, 
basking  in  its  genial  warmth  ;  and  then  to  relieve  her  long 
cramped  limbs,  she  walked  up  and  down  the  cheerful  room 
and  looked  through  the  windows  upon  the  busy  scene  with 
out,  in  which  landlord,  postmaster,  coachman,  guard  and 
hostlers  seemed  all  to  take  an  important  part. 


448  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Tired  of  this  view,  she  turned  from  the  windows,  and 
then,  from  an  open  door  on  the  left  side  of  the  fire-place, 
she  had  a  view  of  the  long  coffee-room,  in  which  was  set 
forth  a  very  inviting  breakfast.  There  all  her  fellow- 
passengers,  as  well  as  many  other  persons,  were  impatiently 
waiting  for  the  signal  to  sit  down  to  the  table. 

Drusilla  not  wishing  to  join  this  company,  went  to  the 
bell  and  rang  it  peremptorily. 

A  chambermaid  answered  the  summons. 

"  Can  I  have  a  bedroom  at  once  ?  "  inquired  the  lady. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  certainly.  This  way,  if  you  please," 
smiled  the  woman,  opening  one  of  the  many  doors  and 
leading  the  way  into  an  inner  chamber  of  the  same  general 
character  as  the  parlor,  except  that  it  was  furnished  with  a, 
bed  and  a  toilet  table,  with  pure  white  dimity  hangings, 
and  a  wash-stand  with  a  plenty  of  fresh  water  and  clean 
towels. 

Drusilla  threw  herself  into  the  white  draperied  easy- 
chair,  before  the  blazing  wood-fire,  and  then  inquired — 

"  Can  I  have  breakfast  for  myself  and  my  attendant 
served  here  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  certainly,"  assented  the  woman,  in 
what  seemed  to  be  her  stereotyped  phrase. 

"  Then  I  would  like  to  have  it  soon,  if  you  please,"  said 
Drusilla. 

The  girl  went  away  to  execute  her  orders. 

Drusilla,  left  alone  with  her  nurse,  laid  off  her  bonnet, 
and  bathed  her  face  and  hands  and  arranged  her  hair. 

While  engaged  in  this  refreshing  process,  she  overheard 
voices  speaking  in  the  parlor  she  had  just  left. 

They  appeared  to  belong  to  Dick  and  his  companions, 
and  they  seemed  to  be  discussing  with  the  landlord  the 
speediest  manner  in  which  to  prosecute  their  journey. 

"  You  say  the  new  Bee-line  of  coaches  across  country  is 
started,  landord  ?  "  spoke  Dick. 


ARRIVAL.  449 

u  Yes,  sir ;  started  on  Monday.  The  road  was  first 
opened  on  Saturday." 

"At  what  hour  do  they  pass  here  ?" 

"  At  half-past  ten,  sir,  almost  to  a  minute.'7 

"  And  they  pass  directly  through  Hammondsville  ?  " 

"  Directly,  sir." 

"  And  Hammondsville  is  within  six  or  eight  miles  of  Old 
Lyon  Hall,  while  Saulsburg  is  nine  or  ten  miles  off.  Be 
sides,  at  Hammondsville,  T  shall  be  near  enough  to  my 
place,  Hammond  Hill,  to  get  my  own  horses,  with  alto 
gether  a  better  chance  of  reaching  our  destination  to-night. 
Come  !  I  have  a  good  mind  to  have  my  luggage  taken 
off,  and  to  wait  for  the  Bee-line  coach.  What  do  you 
say,  gentlemen  !  "  inquired  Dick. 

"  I  say  that  we  had  best  first  be  sure  that  we  can  get 
places  in  the  new  coach  before  we  give  up  our  seats  in  the 
old  one.  '  A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush,' 
you  know,"  answered  the  lawyer. 

"  What  are  the  chances  of  our  obtaining  places,  land 
lord  ?  "  inquired  the  clergyman. 

"  How  many  places  do  you  want,  gentlemen  ?  "  inquired 
'  my  host.' 

"  Only  three ;  and,  rather  than  miss,  we  would  not  mind 
taking  outside  places." 

"  Oh,  be  at  ease,  sir  ;  I  can  almost  insure  you  places  on 
these  terms,  either  outside  or  inside.  At  this  season  of  the 
year,  the  coaches  are  very  seldom  crowded." 

"  All  right !  "  said  Dick,  "  I  will  go  and  have  our  luggage 
taken  off  this  one." 

"  Thank  Heaven,  we  are  going  to  lose  our  fellow  passen 
gers  !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla. 

"  I  thanks  Heaven,  too,  for  that  same.     But  long's  that 
young  man's  gwine  to  have  his  luggidge  took  off  I  must  go 
and  see  that  he  don't  get  hold  of  them  there  two  little  red 
morocky  truuks,"  said  mammy,  starting  off  for  the  door. 
28 


450  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Indeed  you  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  said  Drusilla,  lay 
ing  hold  of  her. 

"  But  why  musn't  I  then  ?  " 

"  Because  in  the  first  place  the  trunks  are  in  no  sort  of 
danger.  Gentlemen  are  not  thieves." 

«  Oh,  indeed  !  " 

"And  in  the  second  place,  I  would  rather  lose  the  whole 
of  our  luggage  than  have  that  gentleman  recognize  you,  as 
I  believe  he  fortunately  failed  to  do  last  night.  Sit  down 
and  keep  quiet.  I  insist  upon  it,  nurse  !  " 

The  old  woman  dropped  down  into  a  chair,  grumbling. 

"  And  I'd  like  to  know  what  we  is  to  do  if  them  there  two 
little  red  morocky  trunks  is  lost  or  stolen  !  " 

"  The  risk  is  mine  alone,  nurse.  And  now  hush,  for  here 
is  the  waiter  come  to  lay  the  cloth  for  our  breakfast,"  said 
Drusilla. 

Very  soon  a  most  delicious  morning  meal  was  laid  before 
them — fragrant  coffee,  maple-sugar,  rich  cream,  hot  rolls, 
fresh  butter,  vension  steaks,  pure  honey — luxuries  to  be 
found  in  their  perfections  only  on  the  mountains. 

Mailing  inhaled  the  aromas  arising  from  this  breakfast 
table  as  though  every  breath  was  a  delight.  She  coaxed 
and  scolded  her  mistress  into  making  a  very  good  meal. 

And  then  she  made  a  very  much  better  one  herself. 

After  this  they  prepared  to  resume  their  journey. 

In  going  out  to  take  her  seat  in  the  coach,  Drusilla  drew 
down  her  veil  to  avoid  recognition,  in  any  chance-meeting 
with  Mr.  Hammond.  She  need  not  have  done  so,  for  poor 
Dick  was  in  the  bar-room  treating  his  friends. 

The  weather  was  worse  than  ever.  From  the  clouds 
above  the  rain  was  pouring  in  torrents  ;  from  the  valleys 
below  the  vapors  were  rising  in  heavy  fogs.  The  bounda 
ries  of  the  mountain  scenery  were  lost  in  mist. 

The  day  was  as  dim  with  a  white  obscurity  as  the  night 
had  been  with  a  black  one. 


DRUSILLA'S    ARRIVAL.  451 

Drusilla  and  her  attendant  had  the  inside  of  the  coach 
all  to  themselves  for  the  next  few  hours. 

Drusilla,  almost  worn  out  with  her  journey,  reclined  at 
aearly  full  length  upon  the  back  seat. 

Mammy,  having  asked  and  obtained  leave,  lay  down  upon 
the  front  seat. 

The  remainder  of  their  journey  passed  monotonously 
enough,  being  varied  only  by  the  stopping  of  the  coach  at 
the  regular  post-houses  to  change  horses,  and  by  the  alter 
cations  between  mammy  and  the  guard  relative  to  the 
safety  of  "  them  there  two  little  red  morocky  trunks," 
which  the  guard  mentally  consigned  to  the  demon  full  fifty 
times  before  they  reached  their  destination. 

About  noon  they  stopped  to  change  horses  at  a  small 
hamlet,  where  they  were  joined  by  other  passengers — two 
honest,  good-humored-looking  countrymen,  who  immedi-' 
ately  upon  their  entrance,  began  to  talk  of  the  great  wed 
ding  which  was  to  come  off  that  same  night  at  Old  Lyon 
Hall. 

From  their  talk  Drusilla  understood  that  she  was 
approaching  the  neighborhood  of  the  old  manor. 

Deeply  interested  in  the  subject  of  their  conversation, 
she  first  forced  herself  to  listen  calmly,  and  then  to  speak. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  how  far  we  are  from  Old  Lyon 
Hall  ?  "  she  inquired  of  the  elder  man. 

"  Well,  goodness,  no,  Miss,  not  exactly ;  though  if  I 
were  to  hazard  a  guess,  I  should  say  betwixt  twenty  and 
thirty  miles,  more  or  less,"  answered  the  man. 

"  What  is  the  nearest  point  at  which  the  road  passes  the 
hall?"  she  next  inquired. 

"  Well,  for  the  life  of  me,  Miss,  I  could  not  tell  !  But 
the  nearest  stopping-place  is  Saulsburg  ;  and  that's  pretty 
near  twenty  miles  off  here,  I  know.  Might  you  be  going 
to  the  Old  Hall,  Miss  ? "  inquired  the  traveller,  feeling 
quite  free  to  follow  her  example  and  ask  questions  in  his 
turn. 


452  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"I  am  going  to  Saulsburg,"  answered  Drusilla,  evas 
ively. 

"  Ah  ! — There's  to  be  a  grand  wedding  at  the  old  Hall 
to-night,  Miss,"  said  the  traveller. 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  coldly  answered  Drusilla,  almost 
regretting  that  she  had  opened  a  conversation  with  this 
traveller,  and  wishing  now  to  close  it. 

•  But  the  good  man  was  well  started  on  the  great  subject 
of  the  day  and  the  place,  and  he  would  talk  of  nothing  but 
the  wedding,  and  to  nobody  but  Drusilla,  thinking,  doubt 
less,  that  a  lady,  and  a  young  lady  too,  would  be  most  likely 
to  feel  interested  in  the  theme. 

Fortunately  for  Drusilla,  her  talkative  fellow-passenger 
got  out  at  the  very  next  stopping-place. 

Now,  having  passed  the  greatest  range  of  the  mountains, 
they  were  coming  into  a  rather  better  settled  portion  of  the 
country,  and  way-passengers  were  getting  in  or  out  at  every 
post-house  ;  and  the  theme  of  conversation  with  every  one 
of  these  was — not  the  crops,  nor  the  races,  nor  the  elections, 
but — the  grand  wedding  to  come  off  that  night  at  old  Lyon 
Hall. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  they  reached  the 
little  hamlet  of  Saulsburg,  consisting  merely  of  a  small  inn 
and  a  half-a-dozen  cottages,  nestled  at  the  foot  of  the  Wild 
Mountain  and  upon  the  banks  of  the  Wild  River. 

Here  Drusilla  and  her  attendant  got  out,  in  a  pouring 
rain. 

The  kind-hearted  guard  hoisted  his  large  umbrella,  and 
led  her  into  the  shelter  of  the  little  inn  parlor,  and  then 
went  back  to  the  coach  to  see  to  the  removal  of  her  luggage. 
He  found  mammy  in  high  dispute  with  the  porter — subject 
of  debate,  of  course,  "  them  there  two  little  red  morocky 
trunks." 

"  Here  they  are  !  "  said  the  guard,  as  the  treasures  were 
taken  from  the  boot  and  set  up.on  the  ground  j  "here  they 


ARRIVAL.  453 

are,  blast  'em,  and  I'm  bio  wed  if  I  don't  wish  I  may  never 
set  eyes  on  you  or  your  blamed  trunks  again  as  long  as  ever 
I  live  in  this  world." 

"  And  so  I  sees  my  little  red  morocky  trunks  safe,  I  shan't 
tear  the  clothes  offen  my  back  for  grief  if  I  never  sees  you 
again  ;  so  there  now  !  "  retorted  mammy,  as  she  loaded  her 
self  with  shawls,  carpet-bags,  and  umbrellas,  and  followed 
the  porter  who  carried  the  precious  little  trunks  into  the 
house. 

The  luggage  was  all  set  down  in  the  hall,  and,  leaving  it 
there,  mammy  went  into  the  parlor,  where  she  found  her 
mistress  still  in  her  travelling  dress,  impatiently  walking 
up  and  down  the  floor. 

"  I  want  to  see  the  landlord,  nurse.  I  have  rung  twice, 
but  no  one  has  come.  You  go  and  try  to  find  him  and 
bring  him  here.  I  must  have  a  carriage  to  convey  me 
to  Old  Lyon  Hall  this  afternoon." 

"  My  goodness  !  ain't  you  tired  of  travelling  yet?  And 
must  you  set  off  on  another  journey  again  directly,"  ex 
claimed  mammy,  in  dismay. 

"  I  am  not  at  the  end  of  my  first  journey  yet,  nurse,  nor 
shall  I  be  until  I  reach  old  Lyon  Hall.  It  is  there  that  I 
am  bound.  So  go  now  and  call  the  landlord  to  me,"  urged 
Drusilla. 

Before  mammy  could  either  obey  or  expostulate,  the  land 
lord  himself  came  in,  in  answer  to  Drusilla' s  first  summons. 

"  Can  I  have  a  close  carriage  immediately,  to  take  me  to 
old  Lyon  Hall  ?  "  anxiously  inquired  Drusilla. 

The  landlord  looked  surprised  at  such  an  unusual  demand 
and,  after  staring  and  rubbing  his  head,  answered,  slowly  : 

"  Why,  bless  your  heart,  Miss,  there  ain't  such  a  thing 
as  a  close  carriage  in  the  whole  will  age  ! " 

"  Well,  an  open  one  then — any  sort  of  one,  so  that  it  can 
be  got  ready  at  once,"  said  Drusilla,  impatiently. 

"  But  there  ain't  any  sort  of  a  carriage  about  the  place, 
Miss." 


454  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

"  A  gig,  then,  a  gig  would  do,"  said  Drusilla,  eagerly. 

"  We  haven't  got  such  a  thing,  Miss." 

"  Good  heavens,  sir,  I  must  have  some  conveyance  to 
take  me  to  Old  Lyon  Hall  this  afternoon.  I  do  not  care 
what  it  costs  !  "  said  Drusilla,  desperately. 

"  Oh,  you'll  be  on  your  way  to  the  wedding  there, 
Miss  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  am  going  there.  Can  you  get  me  a  con 
veyance  of  some  sort  from  some  one  in  the  neighborhood? 
I  will  pay  well  for  the  use  of  any  sort  of  a  carriage  to 
take  me  to  the  old  hall.  And  I  will  pay  you  well  for 
your  trouble  in  getting  it  for  me.  Answer,  quickly — 
can  you  ?  " 

"Dear  me,  how  anxious  young  folks  is  for  weddings,  to 
be  sure  ! — Stay,  let's  see — Yes  !  There's  old  Mr.  Simpkins 
— he  would  hire  his  carryall,  I  know,  and  glad  to  do  it." 

"  Get  it,  then  !  I  will  pay  whatever  he  asks.  Plow  long 
will  it  take  you  to  get  it  ?  "  asked  Drusilla,  breathlessly. 

"  Why,  you  see,"  said  the  landlord,  very  leisurely,  "  Old 
man  Simpkins  he  lives  about  a  mile  from  here  ;  and  if  I 
put  a  boy  on  horseback  and  send  him  right  off  we  might 
get  the  carryall  here  at  the  door  inside  of  an  hour. 

"  Do  it  then  at  once  ;  pray  hurry  !  I  will  pay  you  in 
proportion  to  the  haste  that  you  make." 

The  leisurely  landlord  sauntered  out  of  the  parlor  to  give 
his  directions. 

Drusilla  paced  up  and  down  the  floor  in  great  excitement. 
The  nearer  she  came  to  her  journey's  end  the  more  anxious 
and  agitated  she  felt. 

Mammy  stood  and  watched  her  in  growing  wonder. 
Suddenly  mammy  spoke  out : 

"  What  wedding  this  they  all  talking  'bout  ?  I  thought 
we  was  agoing  to  see  a  wery  sick  man,  not  a  wedding." 

"Perhaps  to  see  both,  nurse!  But  pray  do  not  talk  to 
me  if  you  can  help  it.  I  am  scarcely  sane  ! " 


PRUSILLA'S    ARRIVAL.  455 

"  Which  such  has  been  my  opinion  for  some  time  past,'' 
said  mamtny,  sententiously,  leaving  her  patient  to  pace  up 
and  down  the  room  until  the  latter  had  paced  off  some  of 
her  excitement. 

The  landlord  put  his  head  into  the  door,  saying: 
"  The  boy  has  gone  after  the  carriage,  Miss,  and  you  may 
rely  on  his  being  back  here  in  an  hour's  time." 

"  Thanks.  How  far  do  you  really  think  it  is  from  this 
place  to  old  Lyon  Hall  ?  " 

u  Why  Miss,  some  people  calls  it  ten  miles,  but  I  don't 
believe  it  is  more  than  eight  at  the  outside." 

11  And  how  long  will  it  take  for  me  to  get  there  ?  " 
"  Let  me  see/'  said  the   landlord  in  his  leisurely  wajT. 
"It's  three  o'clock  now,  ain't  it?     Yes — well,  the  boy'll  be 
back  by  four,  and  if  you  start  then  you'll  get  there  by  six 
or  seven.     You'll  be  there  in  time  to  dress  for  the  wedding, 
Miss,  which  I  hear  is  to  be  performed  by  special  license  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening." 
"  Very  well.     Thank  you." 

"  And  now,  Miss,  is  there  anything  else  we  can  do  for 
you  ?  "  inquired  the  slow  host. 

"!N"o;  thanks.  Yes!  you  may  send  a  chamber-maid 
here,"  replied  Drusilla,  incorherently,  for  in  her  intense 
excitement  she  scarcely  knew  what  she  was  in  need  of,  or 
what  she  was  talking  about. 

When  the  host  had  taken  his  little  round  head  out  of  the 
doorway,  mammy,  who  had  kept  silence  for  some  time, 
said  : 

"  Now,  ma'am,  if  so  it  is  that  you  will  go  farther  and 
fare  worse  to-night,  and  if  you  have  an  hour  before  you  I 
strongly  'vises  of  you  to  take  a  bedroom  and  lie  down  until 
it  is  time  for  you  to  start,  and  then  to  take  a  cup  of  tea 
before  you  do  start.  You  must  keep  up  your  strength.  If 
the  matter  you  come  'bout  is  so  very  important,  it  won't  do 
for  you  to  break  down,  you  know." 


456  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Drusilla  stopped  in  her  excited  walk  and  reflected.  The 
advice  of  the  nurse  was  very  good.  There  were  other 
reasons  besides  care  for  her  own  comfort  to  induce  her  to 
engage  rooms  here.  For  one  thing,  she  intended  to  leave 
her  nurse  in  charge  of  the  luggage,  for  she  was  resolved  to 
have  no  more  witnesses  to  the  humiliation  of  her  poor 
Alick  than  was  absolutely  unavoidable  ;  and  for  another 
thing,  she  was  resolved  to  stay  no  longer  at  the  Old  Hall 
than  was  necessary  to  do  her  painful  errand  there,  but  to 
return  as  soon  as  possible  to  the  inn.  Therefore,  she  an 
swered  mammy  assentingly : 

"  You  are  right,  nurse.  You  generally  are  so,  in  fact. 
Here  comes  the  chamber-maid  I  sent  for,  and  I  wrill  order 
rooms." 

A  bright-eyed  negro  girl  stood  in  the  doorway,  courtsey- 
ing  and  waiting  orders. 

In  a  few  words  the  lady  gave  them. 
The  girl  went  away  to  obey  them. 

And  in  ten  minutes  Drusilla  found  herself  in  a  small, 
clean,  warm  room,  where  she  unloosed  her  clothes  and  lay 
down  upon  the  bed,  and,  overcome  by  fatigue  and  excite 
ment,  fell  fast  asleep. 

"  Well,  thank  the  Goodness  Gracious  for  that.  But  who 
in  the  world  would  have  thought  it  ?  "  said  mammy,  as  she 
quietly  closed  the  shutters  and  darkened  the  room,  and  sat 
down  to  watch  by  her  patient  to  try  to  guard  her  from  dis 
turbance  until  the  carriage  should  come. 

But  the  landlord's  hour  stretched  to  two,  and  still  the 
carriage  did  not  appear  and  still  the  sleeper  slept  on. 
At  last,  however,  mammy  heard  the  sound  of  wheels. 
She  went  to  the  window,  cautiously  unclosed  the  shutters, 
looked  out,  and  saw  the  most  dilapidated  old  carryall  she 
had  ever  set  her  eyes  upon  approaching  the  house. 

"That's  it!  and  a  purty  object  it  is  !"  said  mammy,  as 
she  went  and  looked  to  see  what  time  it  was  by  her  mis- 


ARRIVAL.  457 

tress's  watch  that  lay  upon  the  dressing-table.  It  was  a 
quarter  past  five. 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  "  said  the  old  woman  in  dismay,  u  when 
she  finds  out  how  late  it  is,  and  she  so  anxious  to  be  off, 
she'll  just  go  and  fling  herself  into  fits,  and  then  there! 
Let  see  !  I  gwirie  save  her  all  that,  and  'ceive  her  for  her 
own  good." 

And  so  saying,  mammy  opened  the  watch  and  turned 
back  the  hands  from  a  quarter  past  five  to  a  quarter  to  four. 

Then  she  stole  out  of  the  room  and  told  the  waiter  to 
bring  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  round  of  toast  upstairs  quicker 
than  he  ever  did  anything  in  his  life  before. 

Then  she  went  back  to  her  patient,  lamenting  that  she 
must  wake  up  out  of  such  a  refreshing  sleep. 

But  to  her  surprise  and  satisfaction,  she  found  Drusilla 
already  up  and  standing  before  the  dressing-table,  looking 
at  her  watch. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  are  you  awake  ?  I'm  so  glad  you  got  your 
sleep  out !  You  did  get  it  out,  didn't  you,  honey  ?  No 
body  waked  you,  did  the}T  ?  " 

"  No,  nurse,  I  woke  because  I  had  slept  long  enough  ; 
and  I  feel  much  strengthened  and  quite  equal  to  pursue  my 
journey.  It  is  ten  minutes  to  four.  I  am  so  glad  I  didn't 
oversleep  myself.  I  suppose  the  carriage  will  be  here 
soon." 

"  The  carriage  has  almost  just  this  minute  come,  and  a 
purty  ramshackyly  old  concern  it  is  too." 

"Never  mind,  nurse,  so  that  it  will  take  me  to  my  des 
tination.  Come,  help  me  to  dress  quickly.  Dear  me,  what 
a  very  dark  afternoon,"  said  Drusilla,  going  nearer  the 
window  for  light. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  the  clouds  do  make  it  very  dark  indeed/' 
said  mammy,  smiling  in  her  sleeve  at  the  deception  she 
had  played  off  upon  her  mistress — "but  here,  ma'am,  here 
comes  the  waiter  with  lights  and  the  tea-tray,"  she  added, 
as  she  arose  and  set  out  a  little  table. 


458  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"I  have  no  time  to  spend  in  eating  and  drinking,"  said 
Drusilla,  as  she  hastily  put  on  her  bonnet. 

"  But  you  must,  keep  up  your  strength,  ma'am,"  urged 
mammy  leading  her  charge  to  the  table  and  making  her  sit 
down  at  it,  while  she  herself  poured  out  a  cup  of  tea  and 
handed  it  to  her. 

"  Nurse,"  said  Drusilla,  as  she  received  the  cup  from 
the  old  woman,  "  I  shall  leave  you  here  in  charge  of  the 
• — two  little  red  morocco  trunks — until  I  return." 

"  My  goodness,  hone}T,  you  will  never  think  of  going 
alone?" 

"  I  must,  nurse.  There  is  no  reason  why  I  should 
not.  I  feel  quite  equal  to  the  ride.  I  am  going  to  see 
my  husband." 

"  Well,  honey,  I  know  if  you  will  do  a  thing,  you 
will  do  it!  When  will  you  send  for  ine  and  the  luggage, 
honey  ? " 

"  I  may  come  for  you  and  the  luggage  even  to-night." 

"No,  you  mustn't,  indeed!  No  use  for  you  to  do  that, 
nyther.  I  reckon  I  ain't  afraid  to  stay  alone  in  a  decent 
inn  all  night  for  once  in  a  night." 

"  Very  well,  nurse  ;  then  you  may  expect  me  to  come  or 
send  for  you  to-morrow.  And  now  here  is  my  purse — do 
you  pay  the  landlord  arid  make  yourself  comfortable.  I  am 
going  now,"  said  Drusilla,  rising  to  put  on  her  waterproof 
cloak. 

The  nurse  helped  her  on  with  that  and  with  her  over 
shoes,  and  then  accompanied  her  down  stairs  and  saw  her 
safely  into  the  old  carryall. 

"  And  here's  your  umberel,  honey.  Andjrou  driver  bo}' ! 
when  the  madam  gets  out,  you  be  sure  to  hoist  the  umberel 
and  hold  it  over  her  head  to  'vent  her  getting  wet." 

"  All  right,  ma'am,  I  won't  forget  to  do  it,"  said  the  lad, 
cracking  his  whip,  starting  his  old  horse,  and  making  the 
dilapidated  vehicle  rattle  and  shake,  at  every  turn  of  the 
Vrheeis,  as  if  it  would  drop  to  pieces. 


THE      DESPERATE      REMEDY.  459 

Drusilla  sat  back  in  her  seat,  uncomfortably  jolted  in  the 
miserable  old  carnage  over  that  rough  road,  until,  when 
about  a  mile  from  the  house,  it  actually  and  hopelessly  broke 
down. 

When  Drusilla  was  sure  of  this  mishap,  she  took  off  her 
bonnet,  drew  the  hood  of  her  waterproof  cloak  over  her 
head,  and  set  forth  to  walk  the  distance  to  Old  Lyon  Hall. 

Of  that  heroic  effort,  and  of  its  successful  issue — her  safe 
arrival — the  reader  is  already  informed. 


CHAPTER  XLVL 

THE    DESPERATE    REMEDY. 

Let  that  pass,  too.    There  breathes  not  one, 
Who  would  not  do  as  I  have  done. — BYRON. 

THE  bride-elect  listened  to  the  words  of  the  forsaken 
wife,  first  in  surprise  and  incredulity7,  then  in  pity  and 
indignation,  and  last  in  a  rapture  of  relief,  ineffable  and 
indescribable,  and  only  to  be  equalled  by  the  ecstacy  a  con 
demned  criminal  must  feel  when  at  the  last  moment  before 
execution  he  receives  a  full  pardon. 

When  all  M7as  told,  Drusilla  sat  pale  and  despairing. 
Anna  flushed  and  resolute. 

"  Xot  for  myself,"  said  the  poor  young  wife,  not  for  rny- 
self,  Heaven  knows,  and  not  for  you,  but  for  his  sake  have 
I  done  this  thing — to  save  him  from  doing,  in  his  madness, 
a  deed  that  the  law  might  construe  into  a  crime  and  punish 
with  degradation.  But  oh,  Miss  Lyon,  forgive  me  if  in 
coming  here  I  have  brought  37ou  much  sorrow  !  " 

"  Hush  !  you  have  brought  me  no  sorrow,  but  a  great 
deliverance,"  said  Anna  with  a  sigh  of  infinite  relief. 

"  Then  you  never  loved  him. — as  I  do  !  "  exclaimed  Dru- 


460  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES 

silla,  raising  her  large  eyes,  full  of  questioning  wonder  to 
the  face  of  Anna. 

Miss  Lyon  smiled  haughtily,  for  all  reply. 

"  That,  at  least,  is  well,"  mused  the  young  wife. 

Anna  arose,  still  flushed  and  resolute. 

"  Give  me  that  document  of  which  you  spoke,  my  child," 
she  said,  extending  her  hand. 

Drusilla  drew  from  her  bosom  the  little  black  silk  bag, 
took  from  it  the  piece  of  paper  in  question,  and  laid  it 
before  Anna. 

Anna  read  it  over,  with  smiling  eyes  and  a  curling  lip. 

"  Does  it  prove  or  disprove  my  marriage  ?  "  anxiously 
inquired  Drusilla. 

"I  cannot  tell,  Drusilla;  I  do  not  know.  But  so  much 
is  certain — your  fate,  Alick's,  and  your  unborn  child's,  and 
also  my  fate  and  Dick's — all  hang  upon  this  precious  little 
piece  of  paper,  for  which  I  would  not  take  a  mint  of 
money,"  said  Anna,  earnestly. 

"  And  yet  you  cannot  tell  me  whether  it  proves  or  dis 
proves  my  marriage." 

"  No ;  for  I  am  not  sufficiently  learned  in  the  law,"  said 
Anna,  moving  towards  the  door. 

"  You  are  going  out  ?  "  said  Drusilla,  uneasily. 

"Yes;  stay  here  until  I  come  back,  which  will  be  in  a 
fe\v  minutes." 

u  Oh,  Miss  Lyon  !  Miss  L}ron,  do  not  go  to  him  yet ! 
And  do  not  upbraid  him  when  you  see  him  !  Your  provo 
cation  may  have  been  very  great,  but  wait  until  you  are 
cool,  and  then  you  will  be  just,"  pleaded  the  young  wife, 
rising  and  laying  her  hands  upon  the  lady's  robes,  to  stay 
her. 

"  Child,  I  am  not  going  to  him.  And  I  shall  never  up 
braid  him,"  replied  Anna,  with  a  superb  and  beautiful 
scorn. 

"Then  you  go ?" 


THE      DESPERATE      REMEDY.  461 

"  To  my  grandfather's  study  !  " 

"  To  denounce  him  to  his  uncle  ?  Oh,  do  not — not  yet, 
not  just  yet !  Wait,  wait  till  you  are  calm !  till  you  can 
speak  only  the  words  of  justice  and  mercy.  Do  not 
denounce  him  yet !  " 

"  Drusilla,  I  am  not  going  to  denounce  him  now  or  ever. 
Wait  you,  arid  see  what  I  shall  do  ! " 

"  What,  what  ?  " 

(;  I  shall  save  the  miserable  sinner,  if  he  is  to  be  saved  at 
all ! " 

"  But,  how  ?  oh,  how  ?  " 

"Wait  you,  and  trust  me!'7  answered  Anna,  flashing 
out  of  the  room  and  taking  the  mysterious  little  document 
with  her. 

She  walked — no,  in  the  exhilaration  of  her  spirits,  she 
almost  danced  down  the  hall,  towards  her  grandfather's 
little  study,  over  the  great  entrance. 

As  she  tripped  on  she  noticed  the  chamber-doors  on  each 
side  wide  open,  and  the  fire-light  within  shining  down  on 
the  polished  dark  oak  floors.  In  many  of  the  rooms,  the 
chamber-maids  were  putting  on  fresh  logs. 

"  I  think  you  need  not  take  that  trouble.  I  fancy  there 
will  be  no  wedding  guests  here  to-night,"  said  Anna,  smil 
ing,  as  she  passed  them. 

"  Mr.  Richard  has  come,  Miss,"  replied  one  of  the 
women. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Anna,  stopping  short  with  a  beating 
heart.  A  few  seconds  she  paused  to  recover  composure,  and 
then  she  rushed  on. 

"  Well,  my  darling !  have  you  come  to  show  yourself  to 
me  in  all  your  bridal  glory,  before  you  go  down  to  be  mar 
ried  ?  Ah !  truly,  you  look  very  beautiful,  my  Anna. 
May  Heaven  make  your  spirit  even  more  beautiful  than  its 
outward  form,"  said  the  fine  old  soldier,  reaching  out  his 
hand  to  his  granddaughter,  as  she  entered  his  room,  and 
drawing  her  towards  him. 


462  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"I  am  very  glad  that  you  are  pleased  with  me,  grand 
father,"  she  said,  as  she  seated  herself  on  his  knee. 

"  You  look  happier  now,  my  Anna,  than  you  did  half  an 
hour  ago." 

"  I  feel  happier,  dear  sir." 

"  And  what  makes  the  difference  ?  "  he  smiled. 

"  f  A  change  has  come  over  the  spirit  of  my  dream  ; '  that 
is  all,"  laughed  Anna. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  !  feminine  caprice,  "but  I  am  glad  of  it. 
Well,  you  are  ready,  Alick  is  ready,  I  am  ready,  and  Dick 
is  here  ;  but  we  have  no  bridesmaid  and  no  minister." 

"  Yes,  grandpa,  we  have  a  bridesmaid  ! " 

"  Ah !  I  am  glad  of  that !  Which  of  the  six  young 
ladies  is  it  who  has  braved  the  storm  for  love  of  you  ?  " 

"Annie,"  answered  Miss  Lyon,  evasively,  meaning  our 
Anna  Drusilla,  but  wishing  her  grandpa  to  understand 
another  Anna,  as  he  did,  for  he  immediately  exclaimed. 

"  Ah  !  little  Annie  Seymour  !  Well  she  lived  nearest ! 
and  she  must  answer  for  the  whole  six.  But  my  dear,  the 
carriage  has  not  yet  returned  with  the  minister." 

"  The  way  is  long  and  the  roads  are  very  bad.  Doubtless 
he  will  come  ;  but  it  may  be  late.  Was  there  a  special 
license  got  out  for  us,  dear  grandpa  ? "  inquired  Anna, 
speaking  with  assumed  carelessness. 

"  Why,  of  course,  there  was,  my  dear  !  "  answered  the 
old  soldier,  elevating  his  eyebrows  in  astonishment,  at  the 
question. 

"  Who  got  it  ?  "  dear  grandpa. 

"  Why,  Alick,  to  be  sure  !  who  else  ?  " 

"Who  has  it  now,  sir?  " 

"  Bless  my  soul,  what  an  inquisitive  little  puss.  What 
is  it  to  you  who  has  it  ?  Are  you  afraid  it  is  not  all  right  ? 
Would  you  like  to  inspect  it  for  yourself?"  laughed  the 
general. 

"  If  you  please  ;  yes,  sir,  I  should,"  answered  Anna, 
archly. 


THE      DESPERATE      REMEDY.  463 

"  Lest  there  should  be  any  informality  in  it,  eh  ?  " 

"  Such  things  have  happened,  sir ;  but  it  is  not  the  fear 
of  that  whioh  prompts  me  ;  for  I  have  always  had  a  curi 
osity  to  look  at  a  special  marriage  license ;  so  if  Alick  has 
it,  please  get  it  from  him,  that  I  may  gratify  this  wish.  I 
only  want  it  for  a  few  minutes." 

"  Well,  of  all  the  whims  of  whimsical  women,  yours  is 
certainly  the  most  absurd  !  " 

"  Will  you  get  the  license  away  from  Alick,  and  let  me 
look  at  it  grandpa?" 

"  You  persist  in  this  ?  " 

«  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then,  fortunately,  I  have  not  got  to  go  to  Alick  with 
such  a  ridiculous  request  as  the  loan  of  a  license.  I  have 
it  here  with  me." 

"  You  have  it  ?  " 

"  Yes.  You  see  Alick,  thinking  from  the  state  of  the 
weather,  and  the  looks  of  things  generally,  that  he  should 
have  no  groomsman  for  the  ceremony,  put  his  marriage 
license  and  the  minister's  fee  both  in  one  envelope,  and 
requested  me,  when  the  proper  time  should  come,  to  hand 
it  over  to  Dr.  Barbar.  But,  now  I  hear  that  Dick  has 
arrived — having  so  far  conquered  himself  as  to  come  to  the 
wedding.  I  mean  to  conscript  him  into  the  service,  arm 
him  with  this  paper,  and  make  him  do  duty  as  grooms 
man." 

"  Where  is  the  packet,  dear  grandpa  ?  " 

"  Here,  my  dear,  since  you  must  needs  see  the  license 
(which  the  officiating  clergyman  scarcely  ever  does,  as  he 
takes  its  contents  for  granted),  you  may  read  it  at  your 
leisure,  while  I  go  down  stairs  and  inquire  if  my  messenger 
has  returned  from  the  parsonage,"  said  General  Lyon,  as 
he  handed  a  white  embossed  envelope  to  the  bride  elect,  and 
then  left  the  room. 

She  sank  down  into  an  easy  chair  and  opened  the  envel- 


464  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

ope,  which  of  course  was  not  sealed.  She  took  out  the  mar 
riage  license,  in  which  she  found  folded  a  five  hundred 
dollar  bank  note. 

With  a  curling  lip  and  flashing  eyes  she  read  over  the 
form  of  license,  and  then,  with  a  smile  of  scorn  and 
triumph,  she  put  it  on  the  glowing  fire  and  watched  it  blaze 
up  and  burn  to  ashes. 

Then  she  took  that  mysterious  little  document  given  her 
by  Drusilla,  wrapped  it  around  the  big  bank-note  and  put 
both  in  the  envelope  and  folded  it  neatly. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Alexander  Lyon,  whoever  you  may  marry  to 
night,  you  will  certainly  not  marry  me!"  she  mused, 
maliciously,  as  she  sat  and  waited  for  her  grandfather's 
return.  Presently  she  heard  footsteps  coming  up  the  corri 
dor  ;  but  they  were  not  those  of  the  old  General. 

She  arose  to  her  feet  and  her  heart  stood  still. 

Dick  Hammond  entered. 

"  Anna  !  You  here  ?  Pardon  me,  I  expected  only  to 
find  my  uncle,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  vibrating  with 
emotion. 

"  Dick  !  dear  Dick !  you  are  welcome !  Shake  hands, 
Dick.  No,  take  it !  it  is  a  free  hand  now.  I  know  all, 
Dick ! "  exclaimed  Annt/J^embling  with  excess  of  agita 
tion. 

He  clasped  her  hand  and  carried  it  to  his  lips. 

"  I  came  here  to  tell  your  grandfather  everj^thing  and  to 
prove  all  that  I  should  tell.  But  I  have  been  anticipated." 

"  Yes,  Drusilla  is  here." 

"  I  knew  she  was  on  her  way.  I  came  a  night's  journey 
with  her  in  the  coach.  But  I  saw  that  she  tried  to  escape 
recognition  by  me  ;  for  what  reason  I  could  not  guess;  so, 
not  to  trouble  her  with  my  presence,  in  the  morning  I  got 
off  the  coach  and  took  another  route.  I  feared  that  she 
would  not  be  able  to  continue  her  journey." 

"  She  arrived  this  evening,"  said  Anna,  calmly. 


THE      DESPERATE      REMEDY.  465 

«  And  she  has  told  you  all  ?  " 

«  All." 

"  And  iv hat  does  your  grandfather  think  of  this  ?  " 

"  He  does  not  know  it." 

"  How  ?  not  know  it  ?  " 

"  No,  Dick.  Drusilla  told  me  only.  I  have  not  told  my 
grandfather,  nor  do  I  intend  to  do  so." 

"  Then  I  myself  I  will  denounce  the  scoundrel  to  my 
uncle,"  exclaimed  Hammond,  shaking  with  passion. 

"No,  Dick,  we  will  not  denounce  him.  We  will  do  a 
deal  better  than  that.  Listen,  Dick :  My  dear  old  grand 
pa  says  he  intends  to  conscript  you  into  the  service  to  do 
duty  as  groomsman." 

"  He  does ! "  exclaimed  Hammond,  with  his  eyes  flash 
ing. 

"  Yes,  and,  Dick,  you  must  consent." 

"  Consent !  I  consent !  Anna,  do  you  mean  this  iniqui 
tous  marriage  to  go  on  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  do.  And  Dick,  you  must  be  groomsman  and 
hand  the  license  and  the  fee  both  over  to  the  minister.  See, 
here  they  are  in  this  pretty  envelope.  Grandpa  got  it  ready 
for  you.  So,  Dick,  you  must  do  it." 

"  If  I  do,  may  I  be  eternally  consigned  to  the  deepest  pit 
in—" 

— "  Hush,  Dick,  and  don't  go  off  at  a  tangent.  Look 
me  in  the  face,  sir  !  right  in  the  eyes  ! " 

"  Anna,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  inquired,  meeting  her 
steady  gaze. 

"  Do  you  see  anything  '  iniquitous '  in  my  countenance  ?  " 
she  asked. 

."  No  ;  but  I  see  a  mystery  there." 

"  A  holy  mystery,  as  I   suppose  a  (  pious  fraud  '  may  be 
called.     Now,  sir,  will  you  open  this  envelope,  which  is  to 
be  entrusted  to  you,  to  be  delivered  to  the  minister,  and  ex 
amine  its  conteurs  ?  " 
29 


4G6  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"Why,"  said  Dick  in  perplexity,  as  he  looked  at  the  en 
closure,  "  this  is — " 

"  Yes,  it  is.  I  have  taken  advantage  of  my  grandpa's 
absence  to  burn  my  marriage  license  and  substitute  this  one- 
And  you  must  hand  it  enclosed  in  the  envelope,  with  the 
fee,  to  the  minister,  when  we  stand  up  to  be  married.  And 
now,  Dick,  do  you  begin  to  see  daylight  ?  "  laughed  Anna. 

"  I  think  I  do.  Yet  I  do  not  quite  comprehend  yet. 
You  mean — " 

"  Here  comes  my  grandfather,  and  we  have  not  a  minute 
more  for  explanation.  Play  the  part  assigned  to  you — 
blindly,  if  you  must — and  trust  me  with  the  issue.  Will 
you,  Dick  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  WILL,  Anna." 

"  And  Dick,  here,  listen  quick  ! — Just  before  I  am  to  be 
sent  for,  go  down  into  the  great  drawing-room  and  put  out 
two-thirds  of  the  wax  candles.  I  want  a  subdued  light,  not 
an  illumination  there.  Will  you  remember,  Dick,  and  do  it 
yourself,  so  as  to  insure  its  being  done  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Anna,  I  will ;  and  now  I  do  begin  to  understand 
you." 

"  Hush,  here  he  is  !  "  whispered  Miss  Lyon,  as  her  grand 
father  came  to  the  door. 

"  Ah,  Dick,  my  dear,  boy  !  how  are  you  ?  so  glad  to  see 
you  !  "  exclaimed  old  General  Lyon,  entering  and  holding 
out  his  hand  to  Richard  Hammond,  who  took  and  pressed  it 
affection  atety. 

"  So  very  glad  to  see  you  here,  Dick  !  Your  very  first 
vist  to  Old  Lyon  Hall !  And  now  I  shall  expect  you  to 
stay  and  comfort  me  when  my  young  people  are  gone." 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  do  so,  sir/'  answered  Dick, 
sincerely. 

"  But  how  the  deuce  did  you  find  your  way  here,  through 
this  wilderness  of  a  country,  and  over  these  dreadful 
roads  ?  " 


THE      DESPERATE'   REMEDY.  467 

"  Oh,  I  inquired  of  your  proteges,  the  old  Scotch 
emigrants,  at  the  turnpike  gate,"  answered  Dick,  laughing. 

"  Old  Andy  and  Jenny.  Ay,  poor  souls  !  Well,  Dick, 
you  are  here  in  a  good  hour.  All  our  guests  have  failed  us 
• — groomsmen,  and  bridesmaids,  and  all,  except  little  Annie 
Seymour.  And  so  you  must  play  groomsman,  and  lead 
Annie  down." 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  do  so,  sir,  if  Alick  desires  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  does.  I  heard  that  you  were  here,  and  so  I 
looked  in  at  Alick's  room  and  mentioned  the  matter  to  him. 
And  he  declared  that  he  would  be  very  much  obliged  if 
you  would  do  him  so  much  honor.  So,  you  will  see  it  is  all 
right." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

u  And  here,  Dick,  is  the  license  and  the  fee,  both  in  this 
envelope,  which  it  will  be  your  duty  as  groomsman  to  hand 
to  the  officiating  minister." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And,  by  the  way,  I  hear  wheels,  and  his  carriage  must 
be  coming,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  leaving  the  study  to 
inquire. 

Meanwhile,  the  bride-elect  had  returned  to  her  own 
room. 

Drusilla  still  sat  there  in  the  easy  chair,  with  her  hands 
clasped  upon  her  lap  and  her  head  bowed  upon  her  breast. 

Anna  went  and  took  a  seat  beside  her,  and  said,  with 
earnestness  almost  amounting  to  solemnity  : 

"  Drusilla,  if  you  wish  to  save  Alick  from  guilt  and  re 
morse,  and  yourself  and  your  child  from  wrong  and  shame, 
you  must  place  your  destiny  in  my  hands  to-night,  and  do 
as  I  direct  you." 

The  helpless  young  wife  looked  up  in  the  lady's  face,  and 
murmured  mournfully  : 

"  It  is  a  great  trust  you  seek,  Miss  Lyon." 

"  It  is,  Drusilla,  a  very  great  trust ;  yet  I  seek  it.  It  is 
also  for  you  a  very  great  trial,  yet  I  ask  you  to  meet  it." 


468  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  I  would  meet  anything  for  Alick's  sake,  Miss  Lyon,  if 
I  may  save  him,  as  you  say.  Please  to  explain  yourself, 
Miss  Lyon,"  she  said. 

"  Drusilla,  you  know  that  Alexander  Lyon  is  waiting 
and  expecting  to  marry  me  to-night/'  said  the  bride  elect. 

"  Yes,"  moaned  the  wronged  wife. 

"  And  my  grandfather  and  his  household  are  equally 
waiting  and  expecting  to  witness  a  wedding." 

«  Yes." 

"  "Well,  they  must  not  any  of  them  be  disappointed." 

"  Ah,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired  Drusilla,  with  an 
anxious  sigh. 

"  Not  to  marry  Alick  myself,  you  may  rest  assured,"  an 
swered  Anna,  disdainfully. 

"  Ah,  no,  for  you  could  not  do  that." 

"  Of  course  not,  as  I  consider  him  already  married.  You 
are  his  wife,  in  right,  if  not  in  law,  Drusilla/'  said  Miss 
Lyon,  emphatically. 

"  I  know  I  am  so  by  right,  and  I  believe  I  am  so  by  law," 
answered  Drusilla  solemnly. 

"  Yet  those  who  know  more  of  law  than  we  do  differ 
from  us.  And  this  makes  your  position,  Drusilla,  very 
doubtful,  very  unsafe,  and  deeply  humiliating." 

"  I  know  it,  1  feel  it,  through  all  my  darkened  spirit  and 
in  every  pulse  of  my  breaking  heart." 

"  This  state  of  affairs  should  not  be  permitted  to  exist  for 
a  moment,  especially — oh,  most  especially — as  you  are  so 
soon  to  be  a  mother.  No  question  of  the  lawfulness  of  your 
union  with  Alexander  Lyon  should  be  permitted  to 
arise." 

"  No,  no,  no  !  " 

"  But  how  to  silence  such  questions  forever,  how  to  le 
galize  your  union  and  legitimatize  your  child — there  is  the 
difficulty." 

Drusilla  moaned,  but  spoke  no  word  in  answer. 


THE      DESPERATE      REMEDY.  469 

"If  I  were  to  go  now  to  Alick  and  tell  him  of  your  pres 
ence  in  the  house,  and  nrge  him  to  resign  niy  hand  and  to 
do  you  justice,  he  would  not  hear  me," 

"JSTo,  he  would  not,"  wailed  Brasilia. 

"If  I  were  to  appeal  to  my  grandfather,  the  high-spirited 
old  soldier  would — kick  him  out  doors  !  " 

"Ah!"  gasped  Drusilla,  pierced  more  sharply  hy  this 
idea  of  prospective  insult  to  her  Alick  than  she  could  be  by 
any  ignomy  that  might  cover  herself. 

"  Then  what  is  to  be  done  ?  "  inquired  Anna. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  sighed  Drusilla.  "  I  wish  I  were 
dead.  I  wish  I  were  in  Heaven  !  " 

"  Yes ;  but  you  see  we  can't  die  just  when  the  whim 
seizes  us ;  and  if  we  could,  we  shouldn't  go  to  Heaven  by 
that  means." 

"  Ah,  Heaven  have  mercy  !  have  mercy  on  me,  for  my 
state  is  desperate  !  " 

"  Yes,  Drusilla,  your  state  is  desperate — desperate  enough 
to  drive  you  to  despair.'' 

"  Despair  !  I  have  lived  in  it  for  months.  I  shall  die  in 
it!" 

"  If  you  do  you  will  never  see  Heaven  at  all.  For 
despair  is  the  last  and  most  fatal  of  sins.  But  you  needn't 
give  up  to  it  just  yet !  " 

"Oh,  what  do  you  mean  ?  What  hope  have  I  in  this 
world  ?  " 

"  The  hope  that  lasts  as  long  as  life.  Listen,  Drusilla. 
I  said  that  your  state  was  desperate — not  that  your  cause 
was  lost.  '  Desperate  cases  require  desperate  remedies.' 
Your  case  is  such  a  one,  and  my  remedy  is  such  a  one." 

"  What  remedy  have  you  for  me  ?  However  desperate, 
however  dangerous,  I  will  not  refuse  it  or  shrink  from  it  ! 
I  would  dare  anything,  suffer  anything,  to  save  my  Alick 
from  his  sin  and  win  him  back  to  me  again  !  "  said  the 
devoted  wife,  clasping  her  hands  and  gazing  imploringly 


470  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

into  the  eyes  of  the  lady   who    seemed  now  to  hold  her 
destiny. 

"  Then  attend  to  me,  Drusilla,  while  I  divulge  m_y  plan — 
the  only  plan  by  which  you  can  save  your  Alick  from 
present  guilt  and  future  remorse,  and  yourself  and  your 
child  from  the  greatest  wrong  and  the  deepest  shame — the 
only  plan,  Drusilla,  by  which  you  may  hope  to  WIN  YOUR 

WAY  !  " 

"  Speak  on,  tell  me !  I  listen  !  "  gasped  Drusilla,  in  a 
breathless  voice. 

"  Well,  as  I  said  before,  Alexander  Lyon  is  confidently 
hoping  to  lead  his  bride  before  the  minister  this  evening. 
His  hopes  must  be  fulfilled — in  you,  Drusilla  !  " 

"  In  me  !  " 

"Yes,  in  you  !     You  must  enact  the  bride  this  evening." 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  is  this  that  you  are  pro 
posing  to  me?"  exclaimed  Drusilla,  gazing  in  wonder  at 
Miss  Lyon. 

"  That  you  shall  take  my  place  in  this  evening's  solemn 
farce  and  be  fast  married  to  your  husband,  if  you  never 
were  before,"  said  Anna,  calmly. 

"  Impossible,  Miss  Lyon  !  He  would  reject  me  at  first 
sight,  and  I ! — I  should  die  of  mortification  !  r 

"  Yes,  if  he  should  be  permitted  to  recognize  you,  he 
might  reject  you.  But  he  is  not  to  be  favored  with  a  sight 
of  your  face  until  he  is  irrecoverably  bound  to  you." 

"Even  then  he  would  renounce  me — renounce  me  with 
maledictions." 

"  Well,  let  him  !  I  should  thank  him  for  freeing  me.  if  I 
were  you.  Why  should  you  care,  so  that  his  great  wrong 
to  you  and  to  his  child  is  righted — so  that  your  good  name 
is  redeemed  from  unmerited  reproach,  and  your  innocent 
child  from  undeserved  shame  ?  After  you  are  fast  married 
— let  him  go,  if  he  will,  say  I !  " 

"'  Oh;  Miss  Lyon !  Miss  Lyon !     I  never  deceived  any 


THE      DESPERATE      REMEDY.  471 

one    in   all  my  life!     Shall  T  1;;  gin   by   docoiving  my  dear 
Alick  ?"  slie  said,  wringing  her  jioor  little  hands  again. 

"  Drusilla,  this  will  be  no  deception,  but  u  pious  fraud — 
if  e-ver  there  was  such  a  thing  in  the  world  !" 

"Oh,  Miss  Lyon,  you  mean  well;  but  I  could  not  prac 
tise  this  'pious  fraud  '  upon  any  one,  least  of  all  upon  my 
dear  Alick !  I  could  not,  Miss  Lj-on,  I  could  not ! "  fer 
vently  exclaimed  the  loyal  young  creature,  tightly  clasping 
her  hands. 

"  Then  you  accept  the  dishonor  to  which  he  has  doomed 
you,  rather  than  clear  your  fame  in  the  manner  I  pro 
pose  ?  "  said  Anna,  curling  her  lovely  lip. 

"  Yes  Miss  Lyon,  yes  ;  rather  than  force  myself  in  this 
way  upon  my  dear  Alick,  if  I  have  really  no  right  to  his 
name,  I  will  accept  the  undeserved  shame,"  said  Drusillu, 
sadly  but  firmly,  while  the  devotion  of  a  young  martyr 
glowed  through  her  beautiful  pale  face. 

Anna  nodded  her  lieor!  two  or  three  times,  and  then 
said  : 

11  So  be  it.  Yon  may  have  the  right  to  immolate  your 
self  upon  this  idolatrous  altar  of  your  inordinate  affections. 
But  who  I  pray  you,  young  mother,  who  gave  you  the  right 
to  doom  your  innocent  unborn  child,  your  poor  little  help 
less  child,  to  the  deep  degradation  of  illegitimacy  ?  "  de 
manded  Mis*  Lyon,  solemnly  fixing  her  eyes  upon  the  face 
of  Drusilla,  and  seeing  her  mouth  tremble  and  the  big  tears 
roll,  bead-like,  down  her  cheeks. 

"  Hush  !  oh,  in  pity,  hush,  Miss  Lyon  !  Do  not  speak 
of  this  !  "  she  pleaded. 

"  But  I  must  and  will  speak  of  it ! "  persisted  Anna,  who 
now  discovered  that  she  had  touched  a  chord  in  Brasilia's 
heart,  through  which  she  might  draw  her  into  the  proposed 
plan. 

And  though  the  poor,  wronged  girl  wept  and  wrung  her 
hands,  Miss  Lyon  persevered  in  pleading  this  cause, 


472  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

mercilessly  setting  before  the  young  mother  the  shames  and 
woes  that  must  attend  her  child  through  life,  should  she 
persist  in  her  present  resolution. 

Of  course,  Anna  gained  her  point. 

11  For  the  poor  baby's  sake,  I  consent.  Do  with  me  as 
you  will,"  said  Drusilla,  weeping  bitterly. 

"  That  is  right.  Come  now  and  let  me  dress  you.  We 
have  taken  up  too  much  time  in  talking.  We  have  very 
little  left.  I  expect  every  moment  to  hear  that  the  minister 
has  arrived,"  said  Anna. 

And  she  flew  to  the  chamber-door,  and  turned  the  key. 

And  she  quickly  took  off  her  bridal  robes,  and  carefully 
dressed  Drusilla  in  them. 

Then  she  placed  the  wreath  of  orange  blossoms  on  her 
head,  and  laid  the  veil  of  white  lace  over  all. 

"  There,"  said  Anna,  giving  her  a  pair  of  white  kid- 
gloves,  "  put  these  on  while  I  dress  as  a  bridesmaid — for 
while  you  personate  Miss  Lyon,  I  must  seem  to  be  Miss 
Seymour." 

Just  at  that  moment,  some  one  rapped  softly. 

Anna  flew  to  answer  the  summons. 

"  Well,  what  is  wanted  now  ?  "  she  inquired,  without 
opening  the  door. 

"  If  you  please,  Miss,  the  Reverend  Dr.  Barbar  have  come, 
and  Mr.  Alick  and  Mr.  Dick  is  both  waitin' ;  and  Master's 
compliments,  and  is  you  and  Miss  Annie  ready  to  come 
down  ?  "  spoke  the  voice  of  Marcy  from  without. 

"  No,  we  are  not  quite  ready  yet,  but  we  soon  shall  be. 
Miss  Annie  is  dressing.  Ask  them  to  come  for  us  in  about 
fifteen  minutes,"  said  Anna. 

She  then  hurried  to  her  wardrobes  and  bureaus,  selected 
from  her  large  outfit  of  clothing  a  white  taffeta-silk  dress, 
and  a  large  white  tulle  veil,  and  quickly  and  carefully 
disguised  herself  in  them.  So  much  dispatch  did  she  use 
that  she,  as  well  as  Drusilla,  was  read}7  and  waiting  full  five 
minutes  before  the  summons  came  for  them. 


THE      DESPERATE      REMEDY.  473 

"  Courage  now,  my  dear  child !  Remember  how  much  is 
at  stake,  how  much  depends  upon  your  self-possession] 
Draw  your  veil  closely  over  your  face.  I  will  do  the  same 
with  mine.  They  will  ascribe  this  to  our  bashfulness. 
You  must  take  Alick's  arm,  I  shall  take  Dick's.  Never 
mind  if  your  hands  tremble  or  your  tongue  falters — it  will 
seem  natural.  Come  now ! "  whispered  Anna  to  her 
agitated  companion,  as  she  led  her  to  the  chamber-door  and 
opened  it. 

Alick  and  Dick  stood  outside. 

"  My  adored  Anna,  this  is  the  happiest  moment  of  my 
existence  !  "  gallantly  whispered  Alick,  as  he  took  the  half- 
offered  hand  of  Drusilla,  pressed  it  fervently  to  his  lips,  and 
drew  it  within  his  arm. 

She  bowed  in  silence.  It  seemed  all  that  was  expected 
of  a  bride  under  the  circumstances. 

"  Miss  Seymour,  I  believe  ?  Yes  ?  Well,  I  am  very  glad 
to  meet  you  again,  Miss  Annie,  especially  on  this  auspi 
cious  occasion,"  said  Dick,  bending  low  over  the  hand  of 
Anna,  and  then  drawing  it  within  his  own  and  leading  her 
after  the  bride  and  bridegroom  who  were  walking  before. 

"  Dick,"  whispered  Anna,  i(  are  we  both  well  disguised  ?  " 

"Excellently,"  returned  Mr.  Dick. 

"  Did  you  partially  darken  the  room  by  putting  out  two 
thirds  of  the  lights  ?  " 

"  I  nearly  quite  darkened  it  by  putting  out  three  quarters 
of  them.  I  had  a  good  opportunity  of  doing  it,  being  alone 
in  the  drawing-room  while  Alick  and  the  parson  were 
closeted  with  the  governor.  He — the  governor  I  mean — 
swore  a  few  at  the  servants  when  he  came  down  \>y  himself 
to  see  that  all  was  right.  But  the  servants  all  declared 
ignorance  of  the  cause  of  the  lights  going  out,  and  as  it  was 
too  late  to  remedy  the  evil  he  did  not  attempt  it." 

"  Thanks,  Dick.  And  now  you  understand  my  purpose  ; 
have  you  confidence  in  me  ?  " 


474 

"  In  your  sincerity,  yes  :  but  in  your  success,  no.  I  trem 
ble  for  you,  Anna,  lest  when  all  is  done  you  should  find 
yourself  fast  married  to  Alick.  I  do,  indeed,  Anna  !  " 

"  How  foolish  of  you,  Dick.  Why,  I  burned  the 
license." 

"  I  know  you  did,  Anna  ;  but — I  wish  you  would  keep 
as  far  as  possible  from  the  side  of  Alick  Lyon  wrhen  he  stands 
before  a  minister  wTho  holds  a  prayer-book  in  his  hands  open 
at  the  marriage  service  !  " 

"  Be  at  ease,  Dick,  I  shall  place  Alick's  wife  between  me 
and  him.  I  shall  consider  her  an  insurmountable  obstacle." 

"  Hush,  Anna,  we  must  not  talk  more  !  we  are  too 
near  them,"  whispered  Dick,  in  a  very  low  tone  as  they 
came  up  very  close  behind  the  foremost  couple. 

And  what  were  Drusilla's  feelings  when  she  found  her 
self  again  by  her  Alick's  side,  her  hand  drawn  closely  with 
in  his  protecting  arm,  and  pressed  frequently  against  his 
beating  heart — knowing,  as  she  did,  that  he  was  then  med 
itating  against  her  the  deepest  wrong  man  could  inflict 
upon  woman — feeling,  as  she  did,  that  every  caress  bestowed 
upon  her,  in  his  ignorance  of  her  identity,  was  intended  for 
another ;  and  going,  as  she  was,  to  take  from  him,  by  a 
holy  stratagem,  those  sacred  rights  of  which  he  had  so 
cruelly  deprived  her  ;  and  to  brave  and  bear  his  terrible 
anger  when  that  stratagem  should  be  discovered,  as  it  must 
be  when  the  rites  should  be  over — what  were  her  feelings  ? 

A  great  medical  philosopher  has  written  that  "  Nature  is 
before  art  with  her  anesthetics." 

And  Drusilla's  present  state  was  an  illustration  of  this. 
In  the  supreme  crisis  of  her  fate  she  scarcely  realized  her 
position.  She  was  like  one  partially  overcome  by  ether  or 
chloroform  ;  her  head  was  ringing,  her  senses  whirling,  her 
reason  tottering;  she  went  on  as  a  somnambulist,  half  con 
scious  of  her  state,  but  unable  to  awake.  It  may  be  doubt 
ful  whether  she  would  now  have  retreated  if  she  could  ;  but 


THE      DESPERATE      REMEDY.  475 

it  is  quite  certain  that  she  could  not  have  done  so  even  if 
she  would.  She  was  under  a  potent  spell  that  hurried  her 
forward  with  all  the  irresistible  force  of  destiny. 

The  drawing-room  doors  were  thrown  open.  The  little 
bridal  procession  passed  in. 

The  room,  thanks  to  Dick,  was  very  dimly  lighted. 

Upon  the  rug,  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  and  facing  the 
advancing  party,  stood  the  officiating  clergyman  in  his  sur 
plice. 

Near  him  was  the  grand  and  martial  figure  of  the  vete 
ran  soldier,  General  Lyon. 

A.t  a  respectful  distance  stood  a  group  of  the  old  family 
servants. 

The  bridal  party  came  on  and  formed  before  the  minister 
— Alexander  and  Drusilla  stood  together  in  the  center ;  on 
Alexanders  right  stood  Richard,  on  Drusilla's  left  stood 
Anna. 

All  were  reverently  silent. 

At  a  signal  from  General  Lyon;  Richard  Hammond  put 
the  envelope  supposed  to  contain  the  license  and  the  fee 
into  the  hands  of  the  minister,  who  merely,  as  a  matter  of 
form,  glanced  over  it  and  then  opened  his  book  and  began 
the  sacred  rite  by  reading  the  solemn  exhortation  with 
which  they  commence. 

The  old,  loving  servants,  who  had  hitherto  kept  at  a  rev 
erential  distance  from  their  masters,  now  drew  as  near  the 
scene  of  action  as  they  dared  do,  so  that  they  might  hear 
every  syllable  of  the  ceremony  that  was  to  unite,  as.  tlu-y 
supposed,  their  young  mistress  to  the  husband  of  her  choice. 

When  the  minister,  in  the  course  of  his  reading,  came  to 
these  awful  words — awful  at  least,  to  one  of  the  contracting 
parties,  he  delivered  them  with  great  effect. 

"  '  If  any  man  can  show  just  cause,  why  these  may  not 
be  joined  together,  let  him  now  speak,  or  else  hereafter  for 
ever  hold  his  peace.' " 


4T6  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

The  minister  made  the  usual  formal  pause,  for  the  answer 
that  might  often  come,  but  never  does  ;  and  then,  with  the 
most  solemn  emphasis,  he  addressed  the  pair  before  him  : 

"  '  I  require  and  charge  you,  BOTH,  as  ye  will  answer  at 
the  dreadful  day  of  judgment,  when  the  secrets  of  all 
hearts  shall  be  disclosed,  that  if  either  of  you  know  any 
impediment,  why  you  may  not  be  lawfully  joined  together 
in  matrimony  ye  do  now  confess  it.  For  be  ye  well  assured, 
that  if  any  persons  are  joined  together,  otherwise  than 
God's  Word  doth  allow,  their  marriage  is  not  lawful.' " 

As  the  minister  read  this  dread  adjuration,  the  face  of 
the  bridgroom  was  observed  to  flush  and  pale,  and  his  form 
to  tremble  and  shake  as  with  a  sudden  ague  fit. 

But  though  the  minister  made  the  customary  pause,  no 
one  spoke. 

And  the  ceremony  proceeded. 

" '  Alexander,  wilt  thou  have  this  woman  to  be  thy 
wedded  wife  ? }  "  et  cetera. 

And  the  bridegroom  answered  in  a  firm  and  almost  de 
fiant  voice : 

"  <  I  WILL.'  " 

The  clergyman  continued: 

"  *  Anna,  wilt  thou  have  this  man  to  be  thy  wedded  hus 
band  ?  '  "  and  so  forth. 

And  the  bride,  Anna  Drusilla,  faltered  in  whispering 
tones : 

"'Twill'" 

"  (  Who  giveth  this  woman  to  be  married  to  this  man  ?  '  " 
was  the  next  question  in  the  ritual. 

" '  I  do,'  "  answered  the  sonorous  voice  of  old  General 
Lyon,  as  he  came  forward,  took  the  hand  of  the  bride  and 
placed  it  in  that  of  the  minister. 

Then  the  brave  old  soldier  stepped  back  and  turned 
away  his  head,  to  hide  the  tears  that  filled  those  eyes  which 
had  never  quailed  in  the  battle's  deadliest  brawl ;  though 


THE      DESPERATE'    REMEDY.  477 

they  wept  now,  at  his  giving  away,  as  he  supposed  the  last 
darling  of  his  old  age. 

But  the  minister  was  now  joining  the  hands  of  the  pair 
before  him. 

And  bridegroom  and  bride,  in  their  turn  plighted  their 
troth  each  to  the  other. 

Alick  uttered  his  vows  in  the  firm  and  rather  defiant 
tones  in  which  he  had  made  all  his  responses. 

Anna  Drusilla  breathed  hers  in  murmurs  low  as  the  soft 
est  notes  of  the  ^Eolian  harp. 

Then  the  ring  was  given  and  received. 

The  last  prayers  were  said  ;  the  benediction  was  given, 
and  the  pair  was  pronounced  to  be  man  and  wife. 

Alexander  turned  gaily  and  gallantly  to  salute  his  bride. 

Miss  Lyon,  as  bridesmaid,  lifted  the  veil. 

And  the  faithless  husband  stood  face  to  face  with  the 
forsaken  wife  ! 

"  <  DRUSILLA  !  ! > " 

He  uttered  but  that  one  word,  and  reeled  backward, 
white  and  ghastly,  as  if  stricken  by  death. 

Drusilla  stood  pale  and  mute  her  head  sunk  upon  her 
bosom,  her  hands  hanging  by  her  side. 

The  parson,  in  his  panic,  dropped  his  prayer-book,  and 
stood  gazing  in  consternation. 

General  Lyon  bent  forward  in  astonishment  and  per 
plexity. 

Dick  was  looking  on  m  amusement. 

And  Anna  smiling  in  triumph. 


478  THE     CHANGED      BRIDES. 

CHAPTER  XLVIL 

EXPOSURE. 

Away  i  upon  this  earth  beneath 
There  is  n;>  spot  where  thou  ai,d  I, 
Together,  for  an  hour  could  breathe.— BYRON. 

GENERAL  LYON  was  the  first  to  break  the  ominous  sil 
ence.  Turning  to  the  bridegroom,  he  sternly  demanded  : 

"  Sir  !  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  " 

"  Ask  your  beautiful  grand-daughter,  sir,  who,  doubtless, 
to  serve  her  own  pleasure,  has  lent  herself  to  the  basest 
fraud  ever  practised  upon  a  man/'  answered  Alexander,  now 
livid  with  suppressed  rage. 

The  old  gentleman  looked  gravely  upon  the  laughing 
face  of  Anna,  and  inquired,  sadly  : 

"  What  is  this  that  you  have  done,  my  child  ?  " 

Miss  Lyon  hesitated  and  looked  confused. 

"  Pray,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Dick  Hammond,  taking  adv^i- 
tage  of  the  pause  and  advancing  to  her  rescue,  "let  mi 
explain  this  humiliating  affair." 

"  So  you  \vere  in  it,  were  you  ?  "  fiercely  exclaimed  Alex 
ander  confronting  Richard.  "All  right !  here  is  one,  at  least 
whom  I  can  and  will  call  to  a  severe  account." 

"  I  am  quite  ready,"  coolly  replied  Dick,  "  to  admit  and 
answer  for  my  share  in  this  matter  ?  " 

"  Dick  !  hold  your  tongue  !  How  dare  you,  sir  ?  This 
is  my  thunder  !  And  if  you  open  your  mouth  again  with 
out  leave,  I'll — discard  you  forever  !  Stand  back,  sir  !  "  ex 
claimed  Anna,  with  her  blue  eye,s  blazing  upon  the  offender. 

He  retreated  as  from  before  a  fire,  nnd  stood  laughing. 

"  My  dear  grandfather,"  said  Ann  a/- turning  towards  the 
veteran  soldier,  "  this  is  solely  my  affair.  May  I  speak 
without  interruption  ?  " 


EXPOSURE.  479 

"  Yes,  Miss  Lyon,"  answered  the  old  gentleman,  with 
grave  dignity,  "  I  wait  to  bear." 

"  Then,  sir,  in  a  very  few  words,  I  will  resolve  the  whole 
mystery.  You  must  know  that  at  the  time  Mr.  Alexander 
Lyon  sought  the  hand  of  your  grand-daughter,  he  had 
already  a  living  wife,  or  one  who  believed  herself  to  be 
so ! » 

"  It  is  false  !  "  burst  forth  from  Alexander's  livid  lips — 
"  as  false  as !  My  cousin  has  been  deceived  !  " 

"  It  is  as  true  as  truth  !  I  will  prove  it  to  be  so  ! "  put 
in  Richard  Hammond. 

"  Dick  !  what  did  I  tell  you  ?  If  you  speak  again,  I  will 
have  you  turned  out ! "  exclaimed  Anna,  who  was  most 
anxious  to  prevent  a  collision  between  the  two  young  men. 

a  He  had  a  wife  living  and  sought  your  hand  ? "  ex 
claimed  the  gallant  old  soldier,  slowly  turning  his  eyes  from 
Anna  to  Alick,  and  back  again.  "  M}^  child,  you  must  mis 
take.  Such  were  the  act  of  a  scoundrel,  and  none  such  ever 
bore  the  name  of  Lyon." 

"  Sir  !  "  cried  Alexander,  in  a  voice  thrilled  and  a  coun 
tenance  agonized  by  shame — ^Sir,  hear  me,  hear  one  word 
of  my  defence  before  you  utterly  condemn  me  !  I  do  not 
any  more  than  yourself,  understand  this  strange  scene, 
which  seems  to  have  been  got  up  as  a  very  bad  joke  against 
me.  But — that  my  name  is  Lyon  should  be  an  all-sufficient 
guarantee  that  I  am  no  scoundrel,  and  quite  incapable  of 
seeking  to  wed  one  woman  while  legally  bonud  to  another." 

"  That  is  a  denial,  not  a  defence,"  coldly  replied  General 
Lyon. 

'•  Then,  sir,"  said  Alexander,  withdrawing  a  few  paces 
from  the  group  and  signaling  to  General  Lyon  to  follow 
him — I  have  to  confess  to  somewhat  of  human  fraility  in 
order  to  exculpate  myself  from  the  charge  of  crime." 

"  Go  on,  sir,"  curtly  commanded  the  old  gentleman,  who 
had  come  to  his  side. 


480  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

Poor  Drusilla  had  lifted  her  head,  which  had  rested  upon 
the  bosom  of  Anna,  and  bent  slightly  forward  to  hear  her 
fate. 

"  Will  you  proceed,  sir  ?  "  sternty  inquired  the  General, 
seeing  that  his  nephew  hesitated. 

"  It  is  an  unpleasant  stoiy  to  tell.  But  lest  you  should 
have  cause  to  think  worse  of  me  than  I  deserve,  I  must 
admit  that  the  young  person  here  present  was  my  com 
panion  for  a  few  months  of  youthful  hallucination  ;  but 
there  was  no  marriage." 

"  Oh,  Alick  !  Alick!  Oh!  Alick  !  my  Alick  !  "  impul 
sively  burst  from  the  pale  lips  of  Drusilla  with  a  low,  long 
drawn  wail  of  sorrow. 

But  Anna  once  more  put  her  arms  around  the  feeble 
form,  and  drew  the  bowed  head  down  upon  her  supporting 
bosom. 

"  Well,  sir,  what  then  ? "  severely  demanded  the 
General. 

"I  must  admit/'  said  Alexander,  with  a  flushed  brow, 
and  with  some  compunction  awakened  by  the  voice  of  her 
whom  he  had  once  loved,  and  with  much  shame  at  having 
to  make  the  confession — "  I  must  admit  that,  though  there 
really  was  none,  yet  the  poor  girl  supposed  there  was  a 
marriage,  since  there  was  a  semblance  of  one." 

"  What,  sir!  "  thundered  the  grand  old  soldier,  "deceive 
a  maiden  with  the  '  semblance'  of  a  marriage  and  call  your 
self  a  Lyon  ?  " 

"  Again  you  mistake  me,  sir !  "  cried  Alexander,  a  hot 
blush  rushing  over  his  face.  "  I  also  believed  at  the  time 
it  was  performed  that  the  ceremony  which  united  us  was  a 
legal  one.  I  continued  to  believe  so,  even  after  the  hallu 
cination  which  led  to  the  false  and  fatal  step  had  passed 
awray — continued  to  believe  so  until  last  March,  when  I 
chanced  to  discover  that  by  the  accidental  omission  of  an 
important  form  my  marriage  with  this  girl  was  illegal." 


EXPOSURE.  481 

"  And  of  course,  sir,  having  discovered  such  an  error,  you 
took  the  earliest  opportunity  of  rectifying  it  and  making 
your  marriage  legal  ?  "  said  General  Lyon,  emphatically. 

"  Ah,  sir  !  have  I  not  told  you  that  the  illusion  which 
lured  me  to  the  folly  of  such  a  misalliance  was  past  and 
gone  ?  No,  sir,  I  was  too  happy  to  be  free  to  retrieve  my 
errors,  and  to  come  back,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  my  first  love 
and  first  faith,"  said  Alexander,  turning  and  bowing  deeply 
to  Anna,  who  drew  herself  proudly  erect  and  bent  upon  him 
a  look  of  ineffable  contempt. 

"  Oh,  Alick,  my  Alick  !  "  breathed  Drusilla,  in  an  almost 
expiring  voice. 

''Hush,  dear  child,  hush  !  Don't  you  see  and  hear  that 
he  is  utterly  beneath  your  love  and  regret  ?  "  whispered 
Miss  Lyon,  tenderly  drawing  the  young  bowed  head  upon 
her  shoulder  and  pressing  the  poor  broken  heart  to  her 
bosom. 

"  Proceed,  sir  ! "  said  General  Lyon,  scowling  darkly. 

"  There  is  little  more  to  say  but  this,"  muttered  Alexan 
der,  in  an  intensely  mortified  and  irritated  tone.  "  From 
the  moment  in  which  I  discovered  the  illegality  of  my  union 
with  this  girl,  of  course  I  broke  with  her — not  harshly,  but 
very  gently.  From  that  moment  I  treated  her  only  as  a 
sister,  and  visited  her  with  less  and  less  frequency  until  I 
ceased  altogether.  Until  this  hour,  I  assure  you,  my  doar 
sir,  I  had  not  seen  this  girl  for  months,  in  fact  not  since 
April  last.  I  meant  never  to  see  her  again,  but  I  took 
measures  to  provide  handsomely  for  her  future  support. 
Such,  my  dear  uncle,  is  the  'head  and  front  of  my  offend 
ing' — a  boyish  error,  heedlessly  fallen  into,  deeply  repented 
of  and  eagerly  atoned  for.  It  is  seldom  that  a  young  man's 
follies  are  so  cruelly  exposed  as  mine  have  been  this  eve 
ning,"  added  Alexander,  with  an  injured  air. 

"And  this  is  your  explanation?"  haughtily  demanded 
the  General. 
30 


482  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  It  is.  For  the  girl's  sake  I  would  willingly  have  con 
cealed  the  circumstance  ;  but  in  the  present  state  of  affairs 
I  deemed  the  explanation  due  to  yourself  as  well  as  to  my 
lovely  cousin/'  replied  Alexander,  again  turning  with  a 
bow  to  Anna,  who  again  flashed  back  upon  him  a  look  of 
fiery  scorn. 

"But  how  comes  this  unhappy  young  woman  here, 
sir  ?  "  severely  inquired  General  Lyon. 

"  1  beg  to  refer  that  question  to  the  young  woman  her 
self,  or  to  her  two  confederates,  Miss  Lyon  and  Mr.  Ham 
mond,"  replied  Alexander,  making  a  sweeping  bow  that 
included  the  whole  circle,  and  then  stepping  back. 

"How  came  this  hapless  37oung  creature  here,  Anna?  " 
questioned  the  old  man,  turning  to  his  grand-daughter. 

"Permit  me,  if  you  please,  to  answer,"  said  Richard 
Hammond,  coming  forward. 

"  Dick !  be  silent !  If  you  speak  again  till  I  bid  you,  I 
will  never  speak  to  you  again  !  This  is  my  thunder,  I  tell 
you,  and  you  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Grandpa,  order 
him  to  be  still !  " 

"  Be  quiet,  Richard.     Proceed,  Anna  !  " 

"Then  listen,  sir.  You  must  know  that  this  poor  child, 
living  alone  in  the  isolated  country  house  where  her  hus 
band  had  immured  her,  suspected  nothing  of  his  wicked 
addresses  to  me  until  the  day  before  yesterday,  when  sud 
denly  she  received  authentic  information — no  matter  from 
whom " 

"  It  wras  from "  began  Richard. 

"  Hold  you  tongue,  Dick  !  She  received  authentic  infor 
mation,  I  say,  of  his  intended  marriage  with  me.  Believing 
herself  as  I  believe  her  to  be,  his  wife  in  law,  as  she  is  in 
right,  and  wishing  to  save  him  from  the  sin  he  meditated  and 
the  punishment  she  feared  would  be  its  consequence,  willing 
also  to  save  me  from  the  precipice  of  ruin  upon  which  I 
unconsciously  stood,  this  young  fragile  creature,  notwith- 


EXPOSUJIE.  483 

standing  her  delicate  health  and  broken  heart,  all  unfit  as 
she  was  to  travel,  came  by  stage  coach  the  whole  distance 
from  Washington  to  Saulsburg,  and  finding  no  conveyance 
there,  walked  all  the  way  through  this  dreadful  weather  on 
this  dark  night,  over  the  worst  roads  in  the  country,  from 
Saulsburg  to  this  house.  She  came  to  me  in  my  chamber, 
privately  told  me  her  story,  shielding  her  faithless  husband 
as  much  as  she  could  ;  and  she  besought  me  to  withdraw 
from  the  marriage,  and  save  him  from  guilt  and  myself 
from  fatal  wrong." 

"  Then  why  has  she  attempted  to  force  herself  upon  me 
in  this  shameless  manner?  And  why  have  you  aided  arid 
abetted  her  in  the  fraud?"  fiercely  demanded  Alexander, 
his  temper  impetuously  breaking  through  all  his  efforts  to 
maintain  a  proud  composure. 

Anna  disdained  to  reply  to  him.  Not  one  syllable  would 
she  condescend  to  address  to  Alexander  Lyon.  But  turn 
ing  again  to  her  grandfather  she  said 

"  Brasilia  did  not  do  so  ;  she  will  never  attempt  to  force 
herself  upon  Mr.  Lyon.  The  young  wife  came,  as  I  said, 
to  save  him  from  committing  a  felony,  and  me  from  taking  a 
fatal  step  ;  and  not  to  force  herself  upon  an  unwilling  hus 
band.  It  will  be  well  for  him,  when  he  shall  come  to  him 
self,  if  he  can  by  any  means,  woo  her  back." 

"How  happened  it,  then,  my  child?"  inquired  the 
General. 

"  It  was  I,  who  for  reasons  that  will  be  apparent,  urged 
her  to  assume  my  dress  and  take  my  place  in  the  wedding 
ceremony,  and  thus  win  back  the  sacred  rights  of  which 
she  had  been  so  basely  cheated  !  " 

"  But — still — how  was  this  to  be  done  in  such  a  way, 
my  dear  ?  " 

"  By  rectifying  in  this  second  marriage  the  informality 
that  rendered  the  first  one  illegal." 

"And    I    contend,"    burst    forth    Alexander,  "that  this 


484  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

second  marriage  is  no  more  legal  than  the  first  one  was  j 
less  so,  if  anything !  for  this  is  an  imposture,  a  substitution 
of  one  person  for  another,  besides  being  quite  as  irregular 
as  the  first  marriage  in  the  same  particular  of  lacking  a 
license  !  " 

"  He  mistakes,  my  dear  grandfather,  there  was  a  license,1' 
said  Anna,  quietly. 

((  Yes ;  a  license  authorizing  th  e  marriage  of  Alexander 
and  Anna  Lyon.  Such  was  the  document  placed  in  the 
hands  of  the  minister  !  "  angrily  exclaimed  Alick. 

"I  leg  his  pardon,"  said  Anna,  still  looking  at,  still 
speaking  to  her  grandfather.  "  The  license  of  which  he 
speaks  I  burned  with  my  own  hands  this  evening.  The 
license  of  which  /  speak  duly  authorizes  the  nuptial  rites  to 
be  solemnized  between  Alexander  Lyon  and  Anna  Drusilla 
Sterling,  and  it  is  now  in  the  possession  of  the  minister." 

"  It  was  then  taken  out  by  somebody  else  in  my  name. 
It  can  be  of  no  sort  of  legal  effect,"  cried  Mr.  Lyon. 

"  Again  I  entreat  his  forgiveness  ;  but  this  one  was  pro 
cured  by  Alexander  Lyon  hini§«Jf,  dear  grandpa." 

"  It  is  FALSE  ! — I  mean  it  is  a  mistake,  Anna !  "  ex 
claimed  Alexander,  correcting  himself.  "  I  procured  no 
such  paper." 

"I  fancy  that  he 'has  forgttten  the  circumstance,  dear 
sir  ;  but  I  will  refresh  his  memory  !  "  replied  Anna.  Then 
turning  to  the  sorely  embarrassed  minister  who  had  stood 
all  this  time  an  unwilling  witness  to  this  painful  scene,  she 
added  :  "  Dr.  Barbar,  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  return 
the  envelope  handed  you  by  Mr.  Hammond  ?  " 

The  good  clergyman  complied.  Anna  opened  the  envel 
ope,  and  took  from  it  its  inclosure,  which  she  handed  to 
General  Lyon. 

The  old  gentleman  put  on  his  spectacles  to  examine  it. 
Having  silently  read  it,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Why,  this  is — this  is  exactly  what  you  represent  it  to 


EXPOSURE.  485 

be,  my  dear  Anna  !  But  it  bears  date — Heaven  bless  my 
soul,  of  last  January  !  " 

Alexander  started  and  turned  ghastly  pale,  reeled,  and 
recovered  himself  by  a  great  effort. 

"  How  is  this,  my  Anna  ?  What  does  it  all  mean,  my 
dear?"  inquired  the  old  soldier. 

Alexander,  putting  a  strong  constraint  upon  himself, 
bent  forward  to  hear  the  answer. 

"  It  means  this,  my  dear  sir :  You  heard  Mr.  Lyon  say 
that  at  the  time  of  his  first  marriage  with  this  fair  child  he 
supposed  the  union  to  be  perfectly  legal  ;  but  that  afterwards 
he  chanced  to  discover  that  through  '  the  accidental  omission 
of  an  important  form,'  that  ceremony  to  have  been  quite 
invalid." 

"  Yes  !  yes  !  "  said  General  Lyon,  impatiently. 

"He  had  some  reason  for  what  he  said.  Listen,  dear 
sir:  When  this  man  first  prevailed  over  this  poor  child  to 
intrust  herself  to  his  care,  he  seems  to  have  meant  honestly 
by  her.  He  procured  this  license  for  their  marriage  ;  and 
he  took  her  before  a  regularly  ordained  minister  of  the 
church.  But  by  some  strange  oversight  he  never  handed 
the  license  to  the  minister,  who,  being  a  Northern  man  and 
a  new-comer  into  Virginia,  and  ignorant  of  the  law  of  the 
State  which  required  a  license  to  be  shown  before  a  marriage 
ceremony  could  be  legally  solemnized,  never  asked  to  see 
the  document,  but  married  them,  as  he  would  have  done  in 
his  own  State,  without  it.  Months  later  Mr.  Lyon  discov 
ered  this  oversight,  and  having  tired  of  his  fair  bride,  he 
resolved  to  profit  by  it  in  freeing  himself  from  his  obliga 
tions  to  her." 

"And  so  this  is  the  license  he  took  out  for  his  first  mar 
riage,  but  never  used?"  inquired  General  Lyon,  who  for 
the  last  few  moments  had  maintained  a  wonderful  com 
posure. 

"  Yes,  sir." 


486  THE      CHA:N7GEP      BRIDES. 

"  But  how  came  it  into  your  possession  ?  " 

"  Sir,  the  poor  child  found  it  among  her  husband's  papers, 
and  cherished  it  with  a  fond  superstition,  as  she  cherished 
her  wedding  ring.  When  she  came  to  me  with  her  piteous 
story  she  put  that  piece  of  paper  into  my  hands  as  a  proof 
that  she  was  no  impostor.  I  saw  at  once  how  it  might  be 
used  to  get  her  rights,  especially  as  her  first  Christian  name, 
like  mine,  is  Anna.  So  I  burned  my  own  license  and  sub 
stituted  hers  and  closed  the  envelope,  which  you,  dear  sir, 
unconscious  of  its  contents,  delivered  into  Dick's  charge  to 
be  handed  to  the  minister.  Then,  using  such  arguments  as 
I  thought  must  prevail  over  a  wife  and  a  Christian,  I  per 
suaded  Drusilla  to  take  my  place,  as  I  said.  And  now  I  am 
happy  to  announce  that  through  my  means,  and  mine  only, 
the  omission  of  that  important  form  in  Drusilla's  first  mar 
riage  ceremony  has  been  supplied  in  the  second,  and4ffchat 
she  is  now  unquestionably  the  lawful  wife  of  Alexander 
Lyon." 

Drusilla  lifted  her  head  from  Anna's  supporting  bosom, 
and  looked  at  her  husband  where  he  stood,  enraged,  baffled 
and  covered  with  confusion.  Then  she  left  Anna's  shelter 
ing  arms  and'  went  towards  him,  and  with  outstretched 
hands,  face  pale  as  death,  and  beseeching  eyes,  she  pleaded: 

"Oh,  Alick!  Alick  love!  it  was  not  for  myself!  it  was 
not  for  myself  I  did  this  !  Oh  Alick  !  try  to  pardon  me, 
dear  !  and  I  will  pray  to  die  and  set  you  free  !  " 

And  as  if  no  one  had  been  present  but  themselves,  she 
sank  at  his  feet. 

"  BEGONE  ! "  cried  Alexander,  furiously  stamping,  and 
and  turning  away. 

"  Sir  !  you  have  disgraced  yourself  and  the  name  you 
bear!"  sternly  exclaimed  General  Lyon,  stooping  and 
raising  the  poor  little  fallen  figure,  and  supporting  it  on  his 
arm. 

But  Alexander  was  absolutely  beside  himself  with  fury. 


EXPOSURE.  487 

Forgetting  that  he  stood  in  the  presence  of  old  age  and 
young  womanhood,  forgetting  that  he  was  a  mat)  and  a 
gentleman,  he  strode  towards  his  heart-broken  wife,  and 
with  livid  face,  starting  eyes  and  brandishing  hand,  he  ex 
claimed  : 

"  How  dared  you  do  this  thing  ?  How  dared  you  bring 
me  to  this  open  shame  ?  How  dared  you  brave  me  thus  ? 
How  dared  you,  1  demand  ?  " 

She  did  not  speak  ;  but  with  clasped  hands  and  uplifted 
eyes,  seemed  to  implore  his  forbearance. 

"  You  have  repaid  years  of  kindness  by  the  blackest  in 
gratitude  ;  }TOU  have  deceived  me  by  the  most  infamous 
treachery ;  you  have  sought  your  object  by  the  basest 
fraud  ;  you  have  ventured  to  take  the  place  of  the  lady  I 
loved  and  wished  to  wed,  and  so,  stolen  my  hand  by  the 
meanest  trick  !  I  asked  you  where  you  found  the  effron 
tery  to  do  all  this?"  he  demanded,  grinding  his  teeth  with 
rage  and  shaking  his  hand  over  her  head. 

Still  she  uttered  no  word  in  her  defence ;  but  still  with 
appealing  hands  and  eyes,  mutely  besought  his  mere}-. 

Dick,  who  had  been  champing  and  stamping,  and  held 
in  leash  only  by  Anna,  during  this  assault,  now  utterly 
broke  bounds,  and  cried  out : 

"  Come  come,  Lyon  !  I'm  blest  if  I'll  stand  by  and  see  a 
lady  biTmr-beaten  so,  if  it  is  by  her  husband !  If  you  don't 
stop  this  instantly,  I'll " 

"  Be  quiet,  Richard  Hammond,  and  let  the  man  speak  to 
his  wife/'  said  General  Lyon  authoritatively,  with  covert 
irony,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  Dick  and  held  him  back. 

Eichard  yielded,  seeing  in  this  unnatural  forbearance  of 
the  old  soldier,  only  the  ominous  calm  that  portends  the 
fiercest  storm. 

But,  as  for  Alexander  Lyon,  so  absorbed  was  he  by  his 
own  raging  passions,  that  he  perceived  nothing  of  this  bye- 
scene.  Still  brandishing  his  hand  above  her  drooping 
head,  he  continued  to  pour  out  his  wrath  upon  his  wife. 


488  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

"  You  never  loved  me  !  You  never  loved  any  one  but 
yourself!  You  never  loved  me,  certainly,  or  you  never 
would  have  betrayed  me  in  this  base  manner,  he  exclaimed. 

Her  white  lips  quivered — parted,  but  only  inarticulate 
murmurs  issued  from  them. 

"  But  do  not  natter  yourself,  girl,  that  your  treachery 
shall  serve  your  purpose.  Such  a  marriage,  so  procured, 
can  never  stand  in  law.  And  here,  in  the  presence  of  these 
witnesses,  I  utterly  refuse  to  acknowledge  its  validity,  or  to 
recognize  you  as  my  wife  !  Here,  I  renounce  you  for 
ever  ! " 

Her  pleading  hands  were  lifted  in  an  agony  of  depreca 
tion,  and  then  dropped  by  her  side,  in  despair. 

"  Had  you  accepted  the  position  I  gave  you,  although  I 
should  never  have  seen  your  face  again,  yet  I  would  have 
provided  handsomely  for  your  support.  But  now,  since  you 
have  put  this  foul  deception  upon  me,  for  all  the  help  you 
can  get  from  me,  you  may — PERISH  ! "  he  hissed. 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  fine  old  gentleman,  General  Lyon, 
drawing  the  arm  of  the  outraged  and  half  crushed  young 
creature,  closer  within  his  own.  "  Not  so,  by  your  leave. 
I  charge  myself  with  the  care  of  my  niece,  Mrs.  Alexander 
Lyon.  Her  home  shall  be  here,  with  my  grand-daughter 
and  myself — here,  where  she  shall  live  in  peace  and  safety 
— loved  and  honored,  until  such  times  as  you — madman  ! — 
shall  come  to  your  senses,  and  sue  more  humbly  for  the 
forgiveness  of  the  wronged  wife,  than  you  ever  did  for  the 
love  of  the  unhappy  maiden." 

"  You  had  better  be  quite  sure  that  the  girl  in  your  arm 
is  a  wife  before  you  offer  her  the  protection  of  your  roof 
and  the  society  of  your  grand-daughter  !  "  sneered  Alexan 
der,  bitterly. 

"  Sir,  you  have  struck  the  last  blow  to  your  own  honor 
and  my  patience.  Alexander  Lyon,  if  you  were  not  the  son 
of  my  dead  brother  I  would  curse  you  where  you  stand  ! 


EXPOSURE.  489 

But  go!"  said  the  old  man,  lifting,  up  and  stretching  out 
his  arm  with  an  imperious  gesture.  "Leave  this  house, 
and  never  desecrate  its  halls  again  with  your  presence  ! 
and  never  again  let  me  see  your  face  ! " 

Cursing  and  stamping  with  fury,  Alexander  turned  and 
flung  himself  from  the  room. 

In  the  hall  outside  his  voice  was  heard  calling  loudly  to 
his  servant  to  put  his  horses  to  his  carriage  and  bring  it 
around  to  the  door. 

General  Lyon  gazed  down  upon  the  poor  young  wife  at 
his  side,  and  said  :  • 

"  Look  up  my  child.  Here  is  your  home  and  your  father 
and  your  sister.  Be  of  good  comfort,  trust  in  God,  and  all 
will  be  well." 

She  answered  nothing,  but  sunk  heavily  within  his  aged 
arms,  that  yet  were  quite  strong  enough  to  support  her 
sinking  form.  She  had  succumbed  to  one  of  those  fainting 
fits  which,  through  the  agonies  she  had  so  long  endured, 
had  now  become  habitual  to  her. 

"  Grandpa,  she  has  swooned  !  Marcy,  come  here  quickly. 
You  are  strong ;  help  to  carry  her  to  the  sofa.  Matty,  go 
to  the  spare  room  opposite  mine  and  turn  down  the  bed ; 
see  to  the  fire,  and  come  back  and  tell  me  when  all  is 
ready,"  exclaimed  Anna,  rapidly  issuing  her  orders,  while 
she  hastily  took  off  Drusilla's  bridal  wreath  and  veil,  and 
unloosened  her  dress. 

Marcy  who  had  been  in  the  group  of  servants  assembled 
to  witness  the  marriage  ceremony,  was  quickly  on  the  spot, 
and  with  her  assistance  Anna  bore  the  insensible  form  of 
Drusilla  to  the  sofa  and  laid  her  on  it. 

General  Lyon  followed,  looking  anxiously  upon  the  pale 
face  of  the  sufferer. 

Dr.  Barbar  and  Mr.  Hammond  were  left  standing  on  the 
rug,  and  for  the  time  being,  forgotten  by  their  host  and 
hostess. 


490  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

All  available  means  were  used  to  revive  the  swooning 
girl,  but  all  in  vain.  Anna  bathed  her  face  with  eau  de 
cologne,  and  applied  strong  smelling  salts  to  her  nose ;  and 
Marcy  smartly  slapped  her  hands,  but  without  effect. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged  Matty  entered  the  draw 
ing-room,  and  announced  that  the  bed  chamber  was  ready. 

"  We  must  take  her  there  and  undress  her  and  put  her 
to  bed,  Mercy ;  and  then  We  shall  have  a  better  opportunity 
of  applying  restoratives,"  said  Miss  Lyon. 

"  Yes,  Miss,  for  it's  little  we  can  do  here,"  admitted 
Marcy. 

"  Dear  grandpa,"  said  Anna,  addressing  the  old  gentle 
man,  who  still  stood  watching  with  interest  the  face  of  the 
patient,  "  dear  grandpa,  you  have  been  so  worried  this  eve 
ning.  Do  sit  down  and  rest  and  order  some  refreshment 
for  yourself  and  for  Dr.  Barbar  and  Dick,  who  are  being 
neglected.  I  shall  take  Drusilla  to  the  Rose  Room  and  see 
that  every  proper  attention  is  given  her." 

"  But  she  seems  to  be  dead  or  dying,"  said  General 
Lyon,  uneasily. 

"  No,  dear  sir ;  she  is  only  in  a  swoon,  which  is  very 
natural  under  all  the  circumstances  j  but  not  at  all  danger 
ous." 

"  I  hope  you  are  certain  of  this  ?  " 

"  Quite  certain,  sir.  Now,  Marcy,  help  me  to  lift  her," 
said  Anna. 

But  Dick  Hammond,  who  heard  and  saw  all  that  was 
going  on,  hastened  forward  to  offer  his  services  as  bearer. 

"  Anna,  do  let  me  carry  her  up  stairs.  I  can  do  so 
with  so  much  more  ease  to  her  than  you  and  Marcy  could," 
he  said.  And  without  waiting  for  leave,  he  tenderly  raised 
the  unconscious  form  and  gently  bore  it  after  Marcy,  who 
led  the  way  up  to  the  Rose  Room. 

Anna  bade  good  night  to  Dr.  Barbar,  and  then  turned 
and  kissed  her  grandfather  and  asked  for  his  usual  blessing. 


EXPOSURE.  491 

"  God  bless  yon,  my  dear  child,  for  you  have  done  a 
righteous  deed  this  night.  Take  care  of  the  poor  desolate 
girl  up-stairs,  and  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  her,  do  not 
hesitate  to  call  on  me,  even  if  you  should  have  to  wake  me 
up  in  the  night.  My  house,  my  purse,  and  myself,  Anna, 
are  at  her  orders  no  less  than  at  yours,  as  long  as  she  has 
wants  and  I  have  means,"  answered  the  grand  old  man,  as 
he  pressed  a  kiss  upon  his  child's  brow  and  dismissed  her. 

Anna  hurried  up  stairs  and  met  Dick  on  the  landing. 
He  had  just  deposited  his  charge  on  her  couch  and  left  her 
room. 

"Hallelujah,  Dick  !"  exclaimed  Anna. 

"  Hallelujah,  Anna  ! "  responded  Dick,  as  their  hands 
met  in  a  hearty,  congratulatory  clasp. 

"  It  is  all  right  with  us  now,  Anna  ?  " 

"  All  quite  right  now,  Dick,  darling." 

Dick  looked  gratefully  and  then  pleadingly  in  her  face,  as 
he  took  her  hand  again  and  gently  drew  her  towards  him. 

But  she  laughingly  broke  away,  exclaiming  : 

"  Not  now,  Dick  ;  not  now,  darling.  I  must  go  to  my 
patient.  We  must  not  neglect  that  poor  girl,  to  whom  we 
owe  all  our  happiness." 

"  Indeed  we  must  not,"  earnestly  agreed  Dick. 

"  Then  good  night,  Dick.  I  will  see  you  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"  Good  night,  my  liege  lady.  But  stay.  If  I  can  be  of 
any  use,  pray  command  me  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or 
night." 

"  That  I  will,  Dick.     Once  more  good  night." 

And  Anna  flitted  past  him  and  went  into  the  Rose 
Room. 

There  she  found  that  Marcy  and  Matty  had  already 
divested  Drusilla  of  her  bridal  robes  and  clothed  her  in  a 
loose  white  wrapper  and  put  her  comfortably  to  bed. 

They  now  stood  one  on  each  side  rubbing  her  hands. 


492  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  How  is  she?"  inquired  Anna,  approaching  and  bend 
ing  over  the  pallid  face. 

"  No  change  yet,  Miss ;  but  we  must  be  patient  and  keep 
up  this  friction,  and  she  will  come  to  presently,"  answered 
Marcy. 

Anna  went  into  her  own  chamber  and  quickly  changed 
her  splendid  dress  for  a  wadded  white  merino  wrapper,  and 
then  returned  to  the  sick  chamber,  and  took  her  place  be 
side  the  the  bed,  saying ; 

"Matty,  you  may  retire  to  rest.  Marcy  and  myself  will 
remain  here  to-night." 

Matty  who  was  yawning  fearfully,  gladly  availed  herself 
of  the  permission  and  left  the  room. 

And  Miss  Lyon  willingly,  gratefully,  undertook  the  long 
night's  watch  over  the  suffering  young  creature  to  whose 
almost  incredible  energy  and  heroism  she  owed  her  own 
preservation  from  a  fatal  marriage  and  her  hopes  of  happi 
ness  with  the  man  she  loved. 


CHAPTEE  XL VIII. 

BALM    FOE,    THE    BRUISED    HEART 

Nay,  but  Nature  brings  her  solace,  for  a  tender  voice  will  cry,— 
'Tis  a  purer  life  than  his,  a  lip  to  drain  her  trouble  dry. 
Baby  lips  will  laugh  it  down,  his  only  rival  bring  her  rest, 
Baby  fingers,  waxen  touches,  press  it  from  the  mother's  breast. 

— TENNYSON. 

THE  great  old-fashioned  hall  clock  was  striking  the 
quarter  before  twelve  when  Eichard  Hammond  re-entered 
the  drawing-room. 

He  found  General  Lyon  and  Dr.  Barbar  still  there, 
seated  in  large  arm-chairs  each  side  of  the  fire-place. 
They  seemed  to  be  discussing  the  events  of  the  evening. 

"  Yes,  old  friend,  my  dog  of  a  nephew,  like  that  other 


BALM      FOR     THE      BRUISED      HEART.       493 

grand  rascal  of  old,  has  (  spoiled  the  feast,  broke  the  good 
meeting,  with,  most  admired  disorder/  "  sighed  the  general. 
"  Ah,  my  dear  sir,  he  is  young,  and  we  must  be 
charitable.  Even  David,  the  man  after  the  Lord's  own 
heart,  had  to  pray  that  the  sins  of  his  youth  might  not  be 
remembered  against  him.  Give  the  young  man  time  to 
recollect  himself  and  to  reform.  But  I  feel  very  sorry  for 
the  poor  wife — she  seems  but  a  mere  child." 

"  She  is  but  sixteen  or  seventeen,"  said  General  Lyon. 
"  Ah  dear,  how  sad  !     She  seems  to  love  him  much." 
"  She  loves  a  villain  then,  and  must  suffer  accordingly." 
"  Will  he  never  be  reconciled  to  her,  do  you  think  ?  " 
"  Can    she    ever   be    reconciled    to    him  ?     That   is    the 
question.     '  My  spirit  shall  not   always    strive  with  man/ 
saith  the  Lord.     And  if  the  Divine  Spirit  wearies  of  the 
fruitless  struggle    with   Evil,  how  much   sooner  shall    the 
human   spirit   sink  ?     For  myself,  I  should  not  wonder  if 
she  should  experience  such  a  revulsion  of  feeling  as  should 
make  the  very  thought  of  that  man  hateful  to  her.     But  in 
any  case  her  home  is  here,  under  our  protection,  until  such 
time  as  he  shall  repent  and  show  himself  worthy  to  reclaim 
her  hand,   if  that  time   ever  should  come.     Ah  !    here  is 
Dick.     How  did  you  leave  our  young  charge,  my  boy  ?  " 
inquired   the    general,    for   the     first     time    conscious     of 
Richard's  presence. 

"  I  left  her  in  good  hands,  sir ;  otherwise  much  as  she 
was  when  taken  from  this  room.  I  understand,  sir,  that 
since  her  domestic  sufferings  commenced  she  has  been 
very  subject  to  these  fainting  fits.  They  are  said  to 
be  not  dangerous  ;  but  for  my  part,  I  should  think  there 
was  reason  to  fear  that  her  heart  is  affected,"  answered 
Richard,  seeking  a  seat  between  the  two  old  gentlemen. 

"  Dick,  you  were  more  engaged  in  this  exposure  of  Alex 
ander  than  Anna  was  willing  to  admit.  You  know  of  his 
previous  marriage  before  you  came  down  here  ?  "  inquired 
the  general. 


494  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  only  a  few  days  before  ;  and  I  came  down 
here  for  the  express  purpose  of  divulging  it  to  you  ;  and  I 
brought  with  me  the  minister  who  performed  the  first  cere 
mony,  as  proof  of  it.  But  before  I  saw  you  I  chanced  to 
meet  Anna,  who  propos-ed  to  me  another  plan,  which  I 
thought  to  be  a  better  one  than  my  own." 

Yes,  Anna's  plan  was  assured!}7  the  only  one  by  which 
the  ends  of  justice  could  be  reached  in  this  singular  case." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you,  sir,  how  I  came  to  be  informed  of  the 
first  marriage  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  Dick,  not  to-night — to-morrow.  Gentlemen,  it 
is  on  the  stroke  of  midnight.  And  though  my  sorry 
nephew  has  '  spoiled  the  feast/  et  cetera,  I  see  no  reason 
why  we  should  watch  and  fast  the  night  through.  We  will 
have  supper  and  then  to  bed.  And  although  you  are  the 
only  wedding  guests,  we  will  adjourn  to  the  banqueting 
room,"  said  General  Lyon,  arising  and  leading  the  way  to 
a  brilliantly  lighted  and  elegantly  decorated  saloon,  where  a 
sumptuous  supper  was  laid  out. 

The  host  led  his  two  guests  to  the  upper  end  of  the 
table,  and  invited  them  to  be  seated. 

The  two  Jacobs,  father  and  son,  stood  ready  to  wait  on 
them. 

But  what  took  away  their  appetites — whether  it  was  the 
excitement  of  the  evening,  or  the  dreariness  of  a  rich  repast 
laid  for  many,  and  honored  with  the  presence  of  but  three  ; 
or  the  embarassing  variety  of  delicacies  spread  before  them, 
is  uncertain  ;  but  they  could  not  eat.  A  broken  biscuit  arid 
a  glass  of  wine,  was  all  that  each  took.  And  then,  with 
mutual  good  nights  and  good  wishes,  they  separated. 

General  Lyon  went  to  rest. 

Old  Jacob  showed  Dr.  Barbar  to  the  best  vacant  bed 
room,  and  young  Jacob  led  Dick  Hammond  to  the  second 
best. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  two  old  gentlemen  slept  well. 


BALM     FOR      THE      BRUISED      HEART.       495 

Dick  did  not  close  his  eyes. 

The  revulsion  from  despair  to  hope,  to  certainty  of  happi 
ness,  was  almost  too  much  for  him.  He  lay  rolling  and 
tossing  from  side  to  side  all  night ;  telling  himself  over 
and  over  again  that  it  was  no  dream  ;  that  Anna  was  free ; 
and  that  he  might  at  last  be  made  happy  with  her  hand  ; 
and  wondering  how  long  it  would  be  before  he  could  coax 
Anna  to  name  the  happy  day,  and  his  uncle  to  give  them 
his  blessing.  He  heard  the  old  hall  clock  strike  every  hour, 
and  thought  the  night  would  never  come  to  an  end. 

At  four  o'clock  on  that  winter  morning,  it  was  still  very 
dark,  when  he  heard  rousing  raps  at  his  door. 

"  Well  !  who's  there  ?  "  he  cried. 

<l  It's  me,  Master  Dick,''  answered  the  voice  of  Marcy. 

"  Well  !  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"Please  sir,  Miss  Anna " 

Dick  was  out  of  bed  in  an  instant,  drawing  on  his  panta 
loons. 

— "  Says  how  young  Mrs.  Lyon  is  seemingly  ill,  and  will 
you  please  to  wake  up  the  coachman,  and  tell  him  to  take 
the  fastest  horse  and  ride  quick  as  possible  to  Saulsburg  for 
Dr.  Leech. 

Dick  was  dressed  and  at  the  door  by  the  time  Marcy  had 
done  speaking. 

"  Can  I  see  Miss  Anna  for  an  instant  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"I  will  ask  her,"  answered  Marcy,  hurrying  down  the 
passage. 

Dick  hastened  after  her,  and  waited  outside  Brasilia's 
door  while  Marcy  went  in  to  inquire. 

Anna  came  out  with  a  large  shawl  wrapped  around  her. 

"  Oh,  hurry,  Dick  !  don't  stop  to  talk  !  the  poor  child  is 
very  ill,  and  delay  may  be  her  death  !  "  exclaimed  Anna,  as 
she  appeared. 

"  I  merely  stopped  to  tell  you,  Anna,  that  I  shall  trust  to 
no  servant,  least  of  all  to  slow  old  Jacob !  I  shall  saddle 
my  own  fast  horse,  and  fly  for  the  doctor  myself." 


496  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

"You're  a  trump,  Dick.     Heaven  bless  you,  be  off?  " 

"  And  Anna  disappeared  within  the  sick  chamber.  And 
Dick  ran  down  to  the  stable,  saddled  his  horse,  leaped  upon 
his  back,  struck  spurs  to  his  flanks  and  was  off  like  an 
arrow  in  the  direction  of  Saulsburg.  "  He  skelpit  on 
through  dub  and  mire,"  so  eager  in  his  errand,  that  he 
scarcely  noticed  the  storm  was  over,  and  the  clouds  were 
breaking  overhead ;  a  few  pale  stars  were  shining  out,  and 
day  was  faintly  dawning  in  the  East. 

When  he  came  to  the  toll-gate,  as  once  before,  he  cleared 
the  bar  with  a  bound,  and  dashed  onward,  to  the  infinite 
indignation  of  old  Andy  who  had  just  opened  his  shutters 
in  time  to  witness  the  feat,  and  who  turned  to  his  old 
wife,  then  busy  over  the  fire  cooking  the  breakfast,  and 
then  exclaimed : 

"  Eh,  Jenny,  woman  !  the  warlocks  are  flitting  back  frae 
the  witches'  Sabbath.  There  gaed  ane  noo ! — on  a  broom 
stick,  or  something  unco  like  it,  right  over  the  toll-gate  bar 
and  awa' !  We'll  hear  the  news  the  day,  woman  !  " 

Heedless  of  what  the  guardian  of  the  road  might  think 
of  him,  Dick  raced  on;  sending  flakes  of  mud  from  his 
horse's  heels. 

The  sun  was  rising  behind  the  farthest  range  of  moun 
tains,  and  sending  his  dazzling  beams  obliquely  through  the 
Wild  Gap  and  athwart  the  Wild  Eiver.  as  Dick  rode  into 
Saulsburg  and  drew  rein  before  the  picturesque  inn. 

He  had  not  the  slightest  idea  whereabouts  in  the  village 
or  its  neighborhood  the  country  doctor  lived. 

So  he  inquired  of  the  hostler  who  came  to  take  his  horse  : 

{(  Do  you  know  where  Dr.  Leech  hangs  out  ?  " 

"  I  dunno  where  he  hangs  out,  sir ;  but  you  can  ax  him 
hisself.  He  lives  right  down  the  street  there,  sir,"  answered 
the  man.  pointing  to  a  small,  neat  cottage,  with  a  still  smaller 
surgery  beside  it,  and  the  name  of  "  LEECH  "  over  the 
door. 


BALM      FOR     THE      BRUISED      HEART.         497 

Dick  left  his  horse  and  went  and  knocked  up  the  doctor, 
and,  in  a  few  urgent  words,  told  him  his  services  were  in 
stantly  needed  at  Old  Lyon  Hall,  where  there  was  a  lady  in 
extremity,  and  entreated  him  to  hasten  immediately  to  her 
relief. 

The  good  doctor  needed  no  second  bidding,  but  loudly 
called  to  shop-boy  and  horse-boy  to  have  his  saddle-bags 
and  his- horse  got  ready,  and  then  rushed  into  the  house  to 
put  on  his  great-coat  and  hat. 

When  Dick  had  seen  the  doctor  fairly  started  on  his  jour 
ney,  he  turned  his  steps  to  the  little  inn,  entered  it,  and 
ordered  breakfast. 

"  And  have  my  horse  well  rubbed  down  and  watered  and 
fed.  I  must  mount  him  again  in  an  hour,"  he  added. 

At  this  time  of  the  day  there  always  happened  to  be 
more  servants  than  guests  at  the  "  Foaming  Tankard," 
and  so  Dick  and  his  horse  were  both  promptly  served. 

But  while  Mr.  Hammond  sat  enjoying  the  fragrant 
coffee,  light  rolls,  sweet  butter,  luscious  ham  and  fresh 
eggs  that  formed  the  repast,  for  which  his  early  ride  had 
given  him  so  keen  an  appetite,  he  was  suddenly  inter 
rupted. 

It  was  "  mammy  "  who  burst  in  upon  his  privacy  with 
more  haste  than  ceremony,  demanding  : 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  wasn't  you  the  gentleman  as  come 
down  with  us  in  the  night  coach  from  Drainsville  and 
got  off  at  Frostville?" 

"  Yes  !  and  wasn't  you  the  lady  that  scalped  me  and 
broke  both  my  legs  ?  "  laughed  Dick. 

"  I  hope  you  surwived  it,  sir  ?  But  that  wasn't  what 
I  corned  to  ax  you." 

"  Yes  ;  having  a  good  constitution,  I  got  over  it.  But 
what  did  you  come  to  ask  me  ?  '"' 

"Please,  sir,  no  offence;  but  is  it  as  the  boys  say,  you 
come  from  Old  Lyon  Hall  'his  morning  ?  " 
31 


498  THE      CHANGED      BRIDES. 

«  Yes." 

"  Arter  a  doctor  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  For  a  lady  in  'streme  'stress  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Young  Mrs.  Lyon,  sir  ?  » 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,  sir,  that  was  my  own  lady ;  and  I  jest  knowed 
how  it  would  be  !  I  jest  did  !  Sir,  she  left  here  in  an  old 
ramshackly  concern  as  broke  down  with  her  afore  she  so 
much  as  got  a  mile  from  the  place  ;  and  then  she  up  and 
set  out  to  walk  all  the  way  through  the  storm  to  the  hall  j 
and  which  if  I'd  a  knowed,  I'd  a  seen  the  old  hall  and 
everybody  into  it  farther  afore  Pd  a  let  her  a  risted  of  her 
life  by  so  doing.  But  that  there  blamed  boy, — Lord  for 
give  me  for  swearing, — arter  he'd  upset  her  in  the  road, 
took  all  the  rest  of  the  evening  to  haul  off  the  old  wreck 
of  a  carriage,  and  never  got  back  here  till  I  had  gone  to 
bed.  So  I  never  knowed  nothing  about  it  till  this  morn 
ing,  which  a  purty  state  my  nerves  has  been  in  ever  since." 

And  mammy,  having  talked  herself  out  of  breath, 
dropped  down  in  a  chair  and  panted. 

"  You  were  this  lady's  nurse  ?  "  inquired  Dick,  butter 
ing  a  roll. 

"  In  course  I  was,  sir  j  perfessionally  so ;  and  recom 
mended  by  the  highest  gentlemen  of  the  physical  per 
suasion." 

"  Then,  my  good  woman,  I  wonder  why  your  patient 
didn't  take  you  along  with  her." 

"  So  do  I,  sir.  That  was  a  very  sensible  remark  of 
yours  ;  but  you  see,  sir,  she  preferred  to  leave  me  here  in 
care  of  the  baggidge,  which  I  will  say  this — that  mind 
can't  conceive,  nor  tongue  tell  the  trouble  I've  had  to  per- 
tect  them  there  two  little  red  morocky  trunks  from  being 
etoled  or  left  behind  ! " 

"Indeed?" 


BALM      FOR      THE      BRUISED      HEART.       499 

"  True  as  I  tell  you,  sir ;  so  I  don't  much  wonder  at  the 
madam  wanting  of  me  to  stay  behind  to  watch  them." 

"  No,  nor  I,"  said  Dick,  slily.  "  But,  my  good  woman," 
he  added,  "  I  think  now  that  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is 
to  go  to  your  mistress. 

"  Which  such  is  my  intention  so  to  do  sir ;  and  I  would 
be  obliged  to  you  if  you  would  be  so  good  as  to  speak  to 
that  there  pig-headed  landlord — begging  your  pardon,  sir, 
but  so  he  is — to  let  me  have  a  decent  horse  and  wagon,  that 
won't  break  down,  to  take  me  and  the  baggidge  to  the  old 
hall,  which,  if  you  are  going  back  there,  sir,  yourself,  you 
can  show  me  the  way." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  with  good-natured  alacritj^  seeing  at 
once  how  important  it  might  be  that  Drusilla  should  have 
her  nurse  and  her  wardrobe.  "  Yes  I  will  attend  to  it  at 
once." 

And  he  arose  and  rang  the  bell,  and  told  the  waiter  who 
answered  it  to  send  the  landlord  to  him. 

The  slow  host  came  sauntering  in  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  in  answer  to  Dick's  inquiries,  deliberately 
acknowledged  that  he  had  "  such  a  thing,"  and  a  bargain 
was  soon  struck  for  a  wagon,  horse  and  driver  to  take 
mammy  and  her  luggage  to  Old  Lj-on/Hall. 

"  But  the  bill  is  not  yet  paid,"  said  the  landlord,  hesita 
tingly,  "  and  so  I  would  rather  keep  a  part  of  the  luggage 
for  security  until  it  is  settled.  One  of  the  little  trunks, 
now,  might  do." 

"  Set  you  up  with  it,  indeed  ! "  fiercely  exclaimed  mammy, 
as  much  ruffled  as  a  hen  when  her  nest  is  threatened. 

"  But  who's  to  pay  the  bill  ?  "  pursued  the  host. 

"  I  shall,"  answered  Dick,  coldly. 

•''  No  j^ou  won't,  sir,  begging  of  you?  pardon ;  that 
wouldn't  be  noways  proper.  The  young  madam  left  her 
port-munny  long  o'  me  to  settle  all  claims.  Bring  your 
'count  in  here  to  me,  mister  landlord,  and  I'll  settle  of  it 
myself." 


,T>00  THE      CHANGED     BRIDES. 

"  And  not  to  lose  time  while  he  is  making  it  out  you  had 
better  go  and  get  ready  to  start/''  counselled  Dick. 

"  So  I  had,  sir ;  that's  another  very  sensible  remark  of 
yours.  And  I'll  not  keep  you  waiting  one  minute  ;  I'll  be 
ready  as  soon  as  the  wagon  is,"  said  the  old  woman,  hurry 
ing  out  of  the  room. 

And  in  less  than  twenty  minutes  mammy  re-appeared 
ready  for  her  journey.  The  bill  was  paid,  the  wagon 
brought  around  and  loaded  with  the  luggage,  and  the 
nurse  and  the  team  started,  escorted  by  Mr.  Richard 
Hammond  on  horseback,  and  cheered  by  all  the  raga 
muffins  in  the  village. 

It  does  not  take  long  after  a  storm  is  over  for  the  water 
to  run  off  the  roads  of  that  region,  which  are  high  roads  in 
more  senses  than  one  ;  so  the  travel  was  not  so  bad  as 
might  have  been  expected. 

In  little  more  than  two  hours  the  "procession"  arrived 
at  the  toll-gate  where  old  Andy  was  on  duty. 

"Eh,  sirs!"  he  exclaimed,  on  seeing  Dick,  "but  ye's  a 
braw  callant !  Wha  gave  ye  commission  to  loup  twice  over 
me  bar,  and  cheat  me  of  me  toll  ?  Eh,  but  yell  bide  where 
ye  be  till  ye  pay  me  for  a',  e'en  to  the  uttermost  fearthing, 
before  I  let  ye  by ;  for  ye's  no  jump  your  wagon  over  the 
gate,  I'm  thinking." 

"  Certainly,  of  course,  all  right.  You  see  I  was  in  too 
great  a  hurry  to  stop  to  make  change,  or  to  wait  to  have 
the  gate  opened  when  I  passed  here  last  night  and  early 
this  morning.  But  now  open  quickly  to  me.  And  here  ! 
here  is  what  will  pay  you  for  all  the  tolls  and  leave  some 
thing  besides  to  buy  a  winter  gown  for  the  gude-wife," 
said  Dick,  laughing,  and  tossing  a  ten  dollar  gold  coin  to 
the  old  man.  "  And  tell  her  this  from  me,"  added  the 
kind-hearted  fellow,  "  that  the  girl  she  took  so  much  in 
terest  in  is  quite  safe  and  well-cared  for." 

But  Andy  was  not  concerned  about  the  safety  of  the  girl, 


BALM     FOR     THE      BRUISED      HEART.       501 

he  was  stooping  to  pick  up  the  gold  eagle,  and  muttering  to 
himself : 

"  Eh  !  how  the  lad  flings  about  his  gowcl,  to  be  sure  t 
It's  weel  a  carefu'  body  like  mysel'  is  nigh  to  gather  it  up. 
What  was  you  saying  anent  the  young  hizzy,  sir  ?"  he  in 
quired,  looking  up. 

"  Tell  your  good  wife  that  she  is  safe  and  well  cared  for." 

"  Ou,  ay  !  it  wad  be  i'  some  house  o'  correction  ;  only 
there's  nae  sic  a  useful  institootion  in  the  country,"  growled 
Andy. 

"  Never  mind  where  she  is,  or  who  she  is.  Tell  your 
wife  she  is  all  right !  "  said  Dick,  as  he  sauntered  through 
the  gate  in  advance  of  the  wagon. 

The  worst  part  of  the  road  was  past,  and  so  in  something 
less  than  an  hour  the  "  cortege  "  arrived  at  Old  Lyon  Hall. 

The  doctor  had  been  there  already  for  some  time,  and  he 
was  then  with  young  Mrs.  Lyon,  who  seemed  to  all  around 
her  to  be  at  the  point  of  death. 

Such  was  the  report  of  General  Lyon,  who  immediately 
rang  for  a  woman  servant  to  show  the  nurse  up  to  her 
patient. 

"  And  I  am  very  glad  you  thought  to  fetch  her,  Dick/' 
added  the  honest  old  general. 

Dick  explained  that  such  thoughtfnlness  was  no  merit  of 
his  ;  that  this  woman  had  attended  the  young  wife  down 
from  Washington,  and  had  been  left  temporarily  at  Sauls- 
burg,  arid  had  availed  herself  of  his  escort  to  come  on  to 
the  hall. 

So  mammy  was  taken  up  to  her  patient,  whom  she  found 
much  too  ill  to  be  scolded  for  her  imprudence. 

In  fact  Drusilla  was,  as  they  said,  almost  at  the  point  of 
death.  Her  life  hung  upon  the  slenderest  thread  for  five 
days,  at  the  end  of  which  she  became  the  mother  of  a  beau 
tiful  boy. 

As  her  illness  before  his  birth  had  been  severe  and  dan- 


502  THE     CHANGED     BRIDES. 

gerous,  so  her  convalescence  afterwards  was  slow  and  preca 
rious.  For  many  more  days  she  lay  in  a  mental  and  phys 
ical  prostration,  so  profound  that  she  was  incapable  of 
noticing  her  child,  and  even  of  realizing  its  existence.  But 
her  youth  and  her  good  constitution  were  very  much  in  her 
favor. 

Gradually,  very  gradualty,  she  came  out  of  this  depressed 
state. 

The  first  signs  of  reviving  life  she  gave  was  the  interest 
she  showed  in  her  babe. 

Before  she  had  strength  to  speak  above  her  breath,  or 
sense  to  connect  a  sentence  propc-rly,  she  would  mutely  in 
sist  upon  having  him  laid  on  her  arm  and  next  her  bosom  ; 
and  then  with  a  serene  smile  she  would  sink  into  a  tranquil 
sleep. 

And  then,  lest  even  the  light  weight  of  the  infant  should 
be  too  much  for  her  feeble  strength,  the  nurse  would  steal 
the  sleeping  child  from  the  sleeping  mother  and  lay  him  in 
the  pretty  berceaunette  that  had  been  purchased  and  deco 
rated  for  him  by  Anna. 

As  the  weeks  went  on,  the  young  mother  continued  to 
revive  ;  and  her  interest  in  her  infant  boy  became  a  pas 
sionate  love,  that  grew  with  her  growing  strength. 

When  she  was  able  to  be  dressed  and  to  recline  in  her 
easy  chair,  she  would  sit  hours  with  the  babe  clasped  to  her 
bosom. 

Strangely  enough,  that  female  martinet,  the  monthly 
nurse,  never  objected  to  this. 

And  to  all  Anna's  remonstrances  Drusilla  would  nnswer : 

"Oh,  Miss  Lyon,  you  don't  know,  you  can't  know,  what 
this  soft  little  form  is  to  me,  as  I  hold  it  to  my  bosom.  It 
is  such  a  soothing  balm — such  a  heavenly  comfort." 

Sometimes  Anna  would  take  an  opportunity  to  speak  to 
mammy  on  the  subject ;  but  .mammy  would  answer  : 

"  You  let  her  alone,  Miss.     It's  all  natur'  and  all  right. 


BALM      FOB     THE      BRUISED      HEART.       503 

The  baby'll  save  her  life.     It'll  draw  all  the  soreness  out'n 
her  heart  and  heal  it  up  ;  mind  me/' 

But  suddenly  the  thought  came  to  the  young  mother  that 
she  was  perhaps  injuring  her  child  by  holding  him  in  her 
lap  so  constantly.  And  then  all  her  conduct  with  it 
changed.  She  would  take  him  up  only  to  nurse  and  get 
him  to  sleep.  And  then  she  would  lay  him  in  his  little 
decorated  cradle  ;  but  that  cradle  stood  always  by  her  side, 
so  that,  sleeping  or  waking,  her  infant  son  was  never  out  of 
her  sight. 

It  was  beautiful  to  see  the  interest  that  the  old  General 
and  his  grand-daughter  took  in  this  young  mother  and 
child. 

General  Lyon  visited  Drusilla  every  morning,  bringing 
some  rare  offering  of  fruit  ordered  from  the  city,  or  flowers 
from  his  own  conservatory. 

Anna  was  seldom  out  of  the  chamber.  Every  forenoon 
she  took  her  needle-work  and  went  to  keep  Drusilla  com 
pany. 

And  often  they  might  be  seen  sitting,  working  together, 
with  the  baby  in  the  cradle  between  them. 

Dick,  in  his  enthusiasm,  said  of  this  group,  that  it  was 
"a  sleeping  cherub  watched  by  two  guardian  angels." 

"  Watched  by  guardian  angels,"  in  her  home  of  peace, 
we  will  also  leave  the  young,  forsaken  wife. 

Whether  Drusilla  ever  was  re-united  with  her  husband, 
or  whether  Dick  was  ever  really  reclaimed  from  the  clutches 
of  his  "friends,"  and  rewarded  with  the  hand  of  Anna, 
will  be  duly  related  in  the  sequel  to  this  book,  which 
will  immediately  appear,  under  the  title  of  "  THE  BRIDES' 
FATE." 


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